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MARK LOGAN, 


THE BOURGEOIS. 


BY 


MRS. JOHN II. KINZIE, 

AUTHORESS OF “WAU-BUN," “WALTER OGILBY,” ETC 



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“ A story of well-known fact.’ 


Horack. 


AUG 11 1887 3 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPI N CO TT COMPANY. 

1887 . - 




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Copyright^ 1887, by J. B. Lippincott Company. 




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MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

On a summer’s day, one of the longest and hottest of 
the year, all the world was astir in the little frontier town 
of Detroit. 

The twofold epithet with which we describe this now 
stately city will carry the reader back to a period when 
the century was yet “in its twenties;” a period when the 
great Northern Lakes were a barrier separating “the inte- 
rior,” as military people were wont to call the civilized 
world, from the almost unpeopled wilderness beyond. 

These vast and magnificent waters had hitherto been 
traversed only by the canoe of the Indian, the Mackinac- 
boat of the fur-trader, or the small schooner sent out at 
intervals to transport supplies or troops to the upper posts, 
with, peradventure, the family and belongings of some 
emigrant hardy enough to tempt fortune in the fertile wil- 
derness adjacent to the old French settlements of Green 
Bay and Prairie du Chien. 

It is not surprising, therefore, that the announcement, 
“A steamboat for the upper Lakes,” should cause a gen- 
eral sensation in a community where events were rare, 
and that high and low, rich and poor, should share in one ^ 
general fever of excitement. 

Who would be coming from the East under favor of 

( 3 ) 


4 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


such an opportunity for visiting scenes hitherto locked 
inexorably from the pleasure-seeking traveller? Would 
any of the gentler sex Venture themselves on board the 
craft of the redoubtable Captain Blunt ? Or might it, by 
some chance, have come to their knowledge that this Au- 
tocrat of the Lakes had, upon one occasion, ordered a timid 
lady passenger into the small boat, and actually towed her 
for a considerable distance at the stern of the schooner he 
at that day commanded, by way of teaching her courage ? 

The hotels of the goodly little town (there were but 
two deserving the name) were holding high holiday in 
their unwonted accession of guests ; for all who could had 
flocked in from the settlements around, to gaze on strangers 
or salute acquaintainces, as the case might be ; while the 
citizens, on their part, with the customary hospitality of 
frontier life, immediately on the arrival of the “Uncle 
Sam,” threw wide their doors to visitors, and with par- 
ties, drives, and merry-makings, were soon recommending 
their Western home as the most delightful in all Chris- 
tendom. 

So all was, as we have said, “ astir” at this happy sea- 
son. The streets were filled with oflicers in uniform, ladies 
in their most fashionable attire, humbler citizens in their 
holiday garb — a gay, happy concourse, bringing to the 
mind of any transplanted son or daughter of Connecticut 
that glorious old election-day, when all the world swarmed 
to Hartford to witness the entry of the Chief Magistrate, 
on his way to take the oath of office. Who can forget 
those resplendent platoons of “ Governor’s Guards,” in 
their white-and-red regimentals, formidable buff caps, and 
dusty velvet gaiters, as they seemed to carry the interests 
of the whole State at the point of their bayonets ? And 
do not our consciences give us a twinge as we recall how, 
like little reprobates, we would keep ourselves snug in our 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


5 


convenient station by an upper window, and gaze patiently 
over at the meeting-house steps during the long prayer 
and still longer exhortation of the chaplain, instead of 
trooping in with the procession and edifying? But this 
is a digression. 

Such of the strangers as had not been feted and made 
much of were at length growing impatient as time wore 
on and the departure of the Uncle Sam for Lakes Huron 
and Michigan was deferred, the excellent captain having, 
in answer to importunate inquirers, set the period of start- 
ing at the indefinite point of “whenever he was ready. 
It will not be wondered at that there began to be a good 
deal of grumbling, not always in the choicest terms, among 
those who were travelling on their own business and at 
their own expense. There were some, however, to whom 
the delay brought no discontent, — the commissioners, for 
instance, for the settlement of some question of disputed 
boundary between certain adjacent tribes of Indians: 
these, being paid by Government at a generous rate per 
diem for fulfilling their duties, ought to have been in 
haste to reach the scene of their labors and finish what 
was appointed them to do; so far were they, however, 
from complaining of their detention, that one would act- 
ually have believed they thought each extra day a very 
capital thing, and that they even would not have mur- 
mured could the delay have been made to cover extra 
mileage as well. 

There were military officers, too, returning from fur- 
lough, who, in all conscience, should have been longing to 
be at their posts, drilling their companies and going their 
rounds of daily and nightly duty; these, if the truth must 
be told, exhibited a deplorable indifference to the possible 
state of the regiment in their absence, and never once, as 
far as could be observed, pestered Captain Blunt with de- 

1 * 


6 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 

mands that he should hurry matters and speed them on 
their way* 

As for the bevy of young engineers who were being sent 
up to explore the localities and bearings of the rivers and 
natural harbors along the upper frontier — instead of dilating 
with impatience upon the claims which the safe navigation 
of these waters had upon their prompt attention, they fol- 
lowed the example of their betters, and took the goods the 
gods provided, without a word of remonstrance; while 
the young ladies, of whom’ there were a few, accepted 
with resignation their share of the gayeties and diver- 
sions, and abstained from troubling either their escorts or 
the captain himself to put an end to their duration. 

It may be that one and all appreciated the stupendous 
amount of preparation necessary to insure the safe passage 
of the little steamer (she seemed a giant in those days) 
across the tempestuous waters of Thunder Bay and Sag- 
inaw, and through the perilous tossings of the long stretch 
beyond Michillimackinac, until she should double, at length, 
that fearful point, “ Death’s Door,’^ which guards the en- 
trance to the green and tranquil expanse upon whose bosom 
all their fears would be lulled to rest. 

The hour for departure, “ sartain this time,” was at 
length announced, and the passengers were notified that 
they must be promptly on board the Uncle Sam, if they 
wished to sail in her, at midnight. 

An evening party at the Governor’s was to be the 
climax of the series of hospitalities. The breaking-up at 
an early hour, the changing of toilets, possibly a scramble 
for berths after the company should arrive on board, were 
matters of minor consideration. Who ever, at that day, 
gave up a party on grounds so insignificant ? 

Among the travellers who, failing to find admission at 
the principal hotel, had been fain to accept that of the long, 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


1 


rickety, yellow structure which held the second place, was 
a young man in military costume, but with so little that 
was soldierly in his air and bearing, that one saw at a 
glance he was a novice in his profession. For some rea- 
son, his brother officers had apparently taken no pains to 
secure his companionship at the Mansion House, where 
such as had not friends were quartered, and he had, 
whether accidentally or not, been left out of two or three 
of the pleasantest of the entertainments that had been 
given. These omissions may account for the discontent 
visible in his looks and manner, and also for the readiness 
with which he seized upon any tangible subject of com- 
plaint, whenever he could find a person obliging enough to 
listen to his criticisms and animadversions. 

I don’t think much of this town of Detroit,” he re- 
marked, as he paced up and down the shabby parlor of the 
hotel, on the last afternoon of his sojourn. “ It is a very 
contemptible little one-horse place — not a quarter as large 
as New York. I’ll be hanged if I believe it’s as large as 
Brooklyn, even.” 

The listeners to whom the remark was addressed were 
a short, stout man, with a good-natured face, spite of the 
ardent color of his hair and complexion, and his wife, a 
thin, faded-looking woman, much dizened with finery of a 
by-gone fashion. They had been fellow-travellers with 
the young officer from Buffalo, but all their overtures 
towards an acquaintance had been superciliously rejected 
until now that he was driven to condescension by griev- 
ances with which he craved sympathy. The wife took up 
the word. 

“ Contemptible ? I quite agree with you. A little, 
insignificant place, not to be compared to Cattaraugus I I 
am terribly disappointed in it; not that I see much of it, 
to be sure, mewed up in the house as I am with these two 


8 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


children. Gussy, do shut your eyes and go to sleep. 
How you do worry ma I And the weather hot enough to 
bake a body alive 1 I wonder if they always have such 
hot weather out West? Being kept here, too, at expense 
all this time. This is the fourth day ” 

“ The third, Mrs. Hale,” corrected her husband. 

Well, the third — it amounts to about the same thing. 
I dare say they’ll make us pay a whole week’s board.” 

“ Then the longer we stay the more we gain,’^ said her 
husband, pleasantly. 

“Yes, Mr. Hale, I should think that would be just about 
one of your ways of making money. But I, for my part, 
shall be glad to get away. All the time I’ve been here 
there’s not a single soul been to call on me, or ask me so 
much as to break bread in their house. I wmnder what 
Mr. Slater meant by going on as he did about Western 
hospitality, when he was advising us to come out and take 
up a farm on some of his land ?” 

“ I guess he meant that we should make a purchase,” 
said Mr. Hale. 

“ Well, I must say,” continued the lady, “ that I think 
the inhabitants are standing in their own light when they 
treat strangers in this sort of way. There is no saying 
but what, if they had behaved as they ought, we might 
have made up our minds not to go any farther, but have 
settled down among them. However, if they’ve no more 
sense of what is due to people who have come so far and 
given up so much of what’s civilized and comfortable, why, 
the fault’s their own, and they must take the consequences, 
— that’s all I’ve got to say.” 

“ They seem to be a very merry set of people, anyhow,” 
observed the husband ; “plenty of visiting, and music, and 
all that sort of thing.” 

“Yes, oh, yes,” said the young officer, with an air of 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


9 


assumed indifference, there is no want of entertainments, 
as I suppose they call them. I have been invited to 
several, but I can’t say they are much like what I’ve been 
accustomed to.” 

“ No, I dare say not,” was the lady’s emphatic assent. 
“ The girl” (meaning the chambermaid) “ was describing 
some of them to me — she seems to think them wonderfully 
grand ; but I don’t imagine they are much like what you've 
been used to. Judging the people by what I see out of 
my window, I should call them downright outlandish.” 

“Certainly,” responded the young man, “there can be 
no dispute about that — everything in the place is out- 
landish. I rather think my sister Lavinia would laugh if 
she were to look at some of the hats and dresses that parade 
the streets. 1 don’t think I’ve seen a real, genuine Nava- 
rino since I’ve been here — and as for a bishop sleeve, I 
don’t believe they would know what it meant if you were 
to ask them. Nothing but legs-of-mutton, which are all 
gone out. Oh, there’s nothing that’s the least bit like 
Broadway 1” 

“Well, I must say, I think the meals are uncom- 
monly good, at any rate,” remarked the married man. “ I 
quite like those great fish we have at breakfast, and the 
venison-steaks, and what they call prairie-chickens, ai-e 
first-rate.” 

“ I’m glad you like them,” said the young gentleman, 
with a superior air; “I can’t say I’m fond of wild game, 
unless it happens to be at a dinner at Sykes’s or Niblo’s. 
As for eating fish without anehovies, who ever heard of 
such a thing ?” 

“To be sure! Who indeed?” exclaimed the lady, won- 
dering very much at the same time what anchovies could 
be. “ That is what I always say — how can people fancy 
things they are not accustomed to? I don’t like what I 


10 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


have to pub up with here, because I’m not accustomed to 
it. Being shut up in this way, without society, and with 
the care of these two children ” 

“ I’m sure, Mrs. Hale, I offered to take care of the chil- 
dren and let you walk out to take a look at things,” inter- 
posed her husband, good-naturedly. 

“ Walk out all alone by myself, in this strange place ?” 
screamed the lady. “Why, I might have wandered off 
into the woods and got lost I” 

“You wouldn’t if you had kept in the streets, my 
dear.” 

Well, in the streets some great Indian might snap me 
up and tomahawk me 1 Such things have happened — the 
girl was telling me of several instances. One was of a 
beautiful young lady who was walking along in the dusk 
of the evening, when a great, overgrown Indian, with 
nothing on him but a blanket, rushed round the corner and 
scalped her before anybody could snatch her away — and 
the poor thing has had to wear a wig ever since.” 

“ Dear me I can that be true ?” said the young officer, in 
an agitated tone. “ I had no idea that such things were 
practiced nowadays. Was it lately that this happened ?” 

“ Well, I think,” said the lady, not wishing to be dis- 
agreeable to her companion, “that she did say it was 
during the war, some fourteen or fifteen years ago.” 

“ Oh I that alters the case,” said the officer, with a sigh 
of relief. “ Still, I must say, I wish myself back in Bowl- 
ing-green Place, with all my heart.” 

“ Bowling-green Place 1 Is that where your people live ?” 
asked the lady, with an air of interest. 

“ Yes — in the city of New York. It is the place where 
the most wealthy and fashionable people live — quite the 
most elegant part of the city.” 

“Is it, really? How delightful it must be to be so 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. H 

elegant ! I dare say your people live splendidly I What 
did you remark their name was?” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Hale ! upon my word — that is what I should 
call a leading question,” said the husband, laughing. “ Not 
that I’m ashamed of the young man’s knowing that my 
name is Hale, aud that we come from Cattaraugus County. 
I’m above asking for any more than I’m willing to give.” 

“ I’m sure I’ve no reason to be ashamed of mxj name,” 
said the young man, drawing himself up. “My name is 
Lieutenant Smithett, of the United States Regular Army. 
My father is Alderman Smithett, the great hide-and-tallow 
merchant. I dare say you have heard of him. I’m pretty 
sure you must have read of him in the papers, for he 
ran once for mayor of the city, though, owing to the 
fraudulent conduct of a majority of the voters, he was 
not elected.” 

“ Dear me I how shameful I I hope he never ran again ; 
I do like to see people paid in their own coin,” said the 
sympathizing Mrs. Hale. “ But do tell me how you came 
to leave such a splendid home and wander out into this 
miserable, uncivilized country.” 

“ Why, the fact is,” said the young man, “ that my father, 
for all he’s a man of such wealth and standing, has some 
queer notions ; and one is, that young men ought to be 
doing something for themselves, and not be hanging on to 
the old folks. For my part, I don’t see, if fathers have 
made a fortune, why their children shouldn’t benefit by it, 
and live at their ease ; but that isn’t my father’s doctrine. 
So, as my mother and sister thought the Army was a very 
genteel profession, and one easy to get along with, I con- 
cluded to • try it. I had undertaken to study law once, 
but it did not agree with me — it was too dull and con- 
fining.” 

“ Well, really, now,” Mr. Hale ventured to say, “ I 


12 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


should have thought you would have found West Point a 
deal more confining than a law office.’^ 

“Ah, but, you see. West Point was a thing we managed 
to get rid of. My father, being a man of wealth, has a 
great many friends in Congress, and he got some of them 
to speak to the President to give me what they call a 
citizen’s appointment; so I did not have to go through 
that disagreeable four years’ preparation.” 

“ You are lucky — and if that way will do just as well, I 
wonder so many of our young men are willing to go through 
that long apprenticeship by way of learning their military 
profession.” There was a touch of sarcasm in Mr. Hale’s 
remark, which was, however, quite lost upon the lieutenant. 

“ Ah, but you must remember that it is not every man 
who can get such a favor for his son. It is only a chosen 
few,” he explained, with a grand air, which greatly en- 
hanced Mrs. Hale’s esteem and admiration. 

“ It is plain to be seen,” she exclaimed, fervently, “ that 
your father could have anything he wanted for just asking. 
You are accustomed, I know, to everything that is hand- 
some and genteel — of course you must be very much sur- 
prised to see us travelling in this poor way, without a girl 
or anything of the sort, and me taking care of the children 
myself. I assure you I feel it very humiliating — but the 
truth is, I tried very hard to get somebody to come out 
with me, but I could not succeed. Girls seem to have 
grown so grasping ! Perfect Jews, as one" may say I We 
could not, of course, just breaking up, and looking for a 
new home, offer a great deal in the way of wages ; but 
then the advantages of travelling, and the experience that 
a young person would gain in such a journey, ought, as I 
remarked to Mr. Hale’s mother, to count for something. 
And she quite agreed with me, — which is what she doesn’t 
often do.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


13 


“Experience counts for something, but wages is the 
easiest reckoned,” observed Mr. Hale, sententiously. 

“Well, these creatures,” continued Mrs. Hale, without 
noticing her husband’s interruption, “ they wouldn’t look 
at you except for a price that I considered exorbitant and 
was principled against giving ; so I showed them my in- 
dependence, and came off without them. And now, here 
at the West, I find it much the same thing. I have been 
talking to the girl to try and find me somebody to whom 
wages wouldn’t be much of an object, but she has not suc- 
ceeded, and here I am — left in this mortifying situation !” 

The young officer had been walking about in a rather 
fidgety manner while Mrs. Hale rehearsed this explana- 
tion. Perceiving that he did not enter with any degree 
of sympathy into her individual troubles, she quitted the 
subject, and returned to one which she knew would fix his 
attention. 

“ Did you ever see people get about as they do here ?” 
she asked. 

“Get about? Do you mean their walking? Isn’t it 
like other people’s ?” 

“ I’m not talking of their walking, but their riding. I 
was looking out of my chamber window just before dark 
yesterday — of course, being shut in with the children at 
their bedtime, I’ve no other amusement — but that is my 
misfortune, not my fault — I was looking into the street, 
and what should I see coming along but a cart ! — a one- 
horse cart ! — a little, common, square cart I And sitting 
down flat on the floor of it were two ladies ; at least, they 
were dressed like ladies. The cart drove up before the 
door of that large brick house just above here, and what 
does the driver do but wheel round and back up his cart 
and let out his load, just as if they had been two barrels of 
potatoes 1 The ladies, if you will believe it, shook out their 


14 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


skirts and ran into the house, just as if it was something 
they were quite used tol” 

“You don’t tell me sol” exclaimed the young man, with 
a look of intense disgust. “ A cart ! a common horse-cart I 
Well, all I can say is, that I hope my father will apply to 
Congress to get my station changed. I don’t at all relish 
the idea of having to associate with such people ” 

“ And the worst of it is,” chimed in Mrs. Hale, “ to think 
that these very people have, like as not, got girls at home 
to take care of their children.” 

The sound of voices and steps in the hall betokened the 
approach of company. The young New Yorker drew away 
from the immediate vicinity of Mr. and Mrs. Hale, and 
stationed himself at the farthest window, looking out in 
the direction^ of the river, as if that were the only object 
that had at any time presented itself to his aristocratic 
contemplation. 

Poor Mrs. Hale, finding herself thus unceremoniously 
thrown into the background, lost no time in gathering up 
her sleeping children, and, with her husband’s aid, trans- 
porting them to her own apartment. ' 


CHAPTER II. 

The quaint and venerable mansion of the Governor 
stood, as did many another delightful, old-fashioned resi- 
dence, a little below the town, on the banks of the broad, 
beautiful river. 

The shore opposite was dotted with the homesteads of 
the old Canadian families, and ornamented, at frequent in- 
tervals, with odd-shaped little red windmills, kept in almost 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


15 


incessant motion bj the counter-currents which form so 
peculiar a meteorological feature of this region. The white 
sails of the few small vessels passing and repassing gleamed 
and glittered against the blue of the waters, while far 
away in the landscape rose the little Huron church, the 
work of saintly missionaries gone long years ago to their 
reward. 

Gardens and orchards, planted by former generations, 
surrounded the mansion, and trees of age immemorial 
drooped over its long, low, mossy roof, and, with the vines 
which climbed around its sraall-paned windows, embosomed 
it like a bower. Nothing more picturesque and attractive 
could be imagined than its outward aspect, — nothing more 
genial, refined, and inviting than its hospitable interior. 

The social reunion which was to herald the departure 
of the Uncle Sam was, of course, in compliment to the 
strangers recently arrived. Among these were two young 
ladies — sisters — now on their way from Quebec to their 
home on the Mississippi. They were accompanied by an 
elderly French or rather Canadian gentleman — their neigh- 
bor at home — and they were ostensibly under his care ; 
though a slight observation was sufficient to show that 
the elder of the two Miss McGregors was the person who 
had charge, not only of her younger sister, but also of M. 
Tremblay himself. 

The impression produced by the sisters may be gathered 
from fragments of a conversation between two of the young 
engineer officers, and a secretary of the Governor who was 
acting as master of ceremonies on the occasion. 

“ Which of the two Miss McGregors do you think the 
handsomest The question was from Captain Lytle, and 
was addressed to Mr. Ewing, the secretary. 

‘‘Oh, the younger, by all means. I always prefer a 
blonde to a brunette. I admire, particularly, that light. 


16 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


wavy brown hair, and — no — upon the whole, I cannot say 
I give the preference to blue eyes, though Miss Madeleine’s 
are very soft and beautiful. Then her manners are so 
graceful and winning, so sprightly and piquant, yet with- 
out any touch of forwardness.” 

“ Well,” said Captain Lytle, “ I dare say I should be as 
much captivated as the rest of you, only that I have, my- 
self, a decided penchant for a brunette. If I had been 
Lord Thomas I should at once, and without ado, have 
gratified my lady mother by ‘ bringing her the brown girl 
home.’ Give me the large, dark eyes, full of fire or of 
languor, according to the sentiment of the moment— and 
surely no one ever saw a pair more gloriously expressive 
than those of Miss McGregor when her face lights up in 
conversation^ or more touchingly pensive when her features 
are in repose. Her life, by-the-by, has not been a holiday, 
if I am anything of a Lavater.” 

^ Mr. Ewing smiled. He was not on sufficiently intimate 
terms with Captain Lytle to rally him on the eloquence 
those eyes had inspired. That gentleman continued : 

“ Who are they ? Tell me something more about them, 
will you ? You have lived so long in the country you 
must know everybody. I confess to no small degree of 
curiosity upon the subject. I had little expected to meet, 
in my expedition, anything so queen-like.” 

“ I can tell you nothing more than what 3^ou have doubt- 
less already learned : that their father is a partner in the 
American Fur Company ; that he resides at or near Prai- 
rie du Chien, in a good deal of the old colonial style ; and 
that he has these two daughters, who are his only children.” 

“ What countr^^man is he ? His name is Scotch, yet 
the eldest daughter has a good deal of the Spanish look.” 

“ That she may inherit from her mother. I think I have 
heard it said thaUMr. McGregor married a native— a Win- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


IT 


nebago, if I mistake not ; and there is, occasionally, in that 
blood a cross of the Spanish — remote, of course, as there 
have been now some two or three generations since that 
race gave place to the French on the frontier.” 

“ Pardon me, but may you not have been misinformed 
as to the mother ?” said a junior officer who had hitherto 
listened in silence. “It is impossible to admit^the idea 
that the younger sister can have Indian blood in her veins. 
What can be more perfectly fair and transparent than her 
complexion? Look, too, at the color of her eyes and hair I” 

“ That may all be, and not disprove the mixed blood,” 
said Mr. Ewing. “You will meet many, particularly 
among those who have a cross of the Sioux or Menomo- 
nee, who retain not the slightest trace of their aboriginal 
descent.” 

“ The countenance of the elder sister gives token of both 
intellect and strength of character,” observed Captain 
Lytle. 

“ Have you no surer means of judging than by looks ?” 
asked Ewing. “I have seen you several times in her 
company already.” 

“ True, but only at these merry-makings, where there is 
so little of any conversation but mere rattle ; where a sen- 
sible observation sounds out of place and pedantic. Scenes 
of amusement, you know, are great levellers. The culti- 
vated and the mediocre appear very much alike if their 
movements are equally graceful and their tones of voices 
equally musical.” 

“ If your last-named attraction were the criterion, Miss 
McGregor would surely bear away the palm,” replied the 
secretary. “You cannot but have been struck with the 
peculiar charm of her voice, so soft, so melodious in its 
tones.” 

“ I dare say I should, if I had heard it unmingled with 
2 * 


18 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


the chatter hy which we are always surrounded. A con- 
versation in which I can fully appreciate it is a happiness 
in reserve for me, as we are to be fellow-travellers across 
the Upper Lakes.” 

This was said lightly, and at the moment the j^oung 
master of ceremonies moved away to attend to a party of 
newly-arrived guests. 

“ I find it difficult to credit what Mr. Ewing has been 
telling us,” said Lieutenant Stafford, his eyes still fixed on 
the younger of the sisters. “I would give a good deal to 
know if it is true.” 

“Why donT you ask somebody whose word you can 
credit, then ?” said Lytle. 

“ Why, it doesn’t seem to be just the thing to be asking 
questions of that kind. I suppose I shall find out about 
it one of these days.” 

“ As you seem so much interested, I can put you in a 
way of satisfying yourself at once,” said the captain, in a 
bantering tone. “Go to the young lady and engage her 
in some conversation that shall have our red brethren for 
the leading topic. You can soon detect by her manner 
whether she has any personal interest in the subject.” 

“ If what we have heard is true, the introduction of such 
a theme might give offence.” 

“ In that case your curiosity would be satisfied — you 
would have your answer.” 

“ I do not care to purchase satisfaction on such terms,” 
said the young officer.” 

“Just as you please,” said his companion. “Only, as 
treaties, and tribes, and cessions of territory happen to 
form so much the staple of conversation just now, it strikes 
me that one might find a way to say ‘Indian’ without an 
air of premeditation. Besides, it is not to be supposed 
that they are ashamed of their aboriginal descent. . I rather 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


19 


imagine they are proud of it. However that may be, as 
my sensibilities are not particularly enlisted in the facts of 
the case, I shall go and put in for my share of notice from 
the elder one — and if I find out anything,” he added, in a 
jesting tone, “ I will let you know. 

The young lieutenant colored. He would gladly have 
followed the light-hearted captain, but diffidence restrained 
him, and he remained gazing across the room to where the 
sisters sat, so surrounded by more adventurous admirers, 
that it was only now and then that he could catch a glimpse 
of the fair countenance which was the subject of his specu- 
lations. A band was playing upon the piazza, and some 
of the young people, regardless of the heat, or the crowded 
state of the rooms, were proposing a dance. 

Miss McGregor had declined more than one invitation, 
but she rose when Captain Lytle approached and offered 
his arm with the suggestion that in the open air of the 
piazza they should enjoy not only the music, but the per- 
fume of the garden and orchard. 

“ Yes, we will move away,” the young lady said, with 
ready complaisance, “ and give room, so that they who like 
to dance may not be incommoded.” 

She looked around for her sister, who was ready with a 
petition. 

“ May I dance, Monica, if they make up a set ?” 

Mr. Stafford, from admiring the captain’s audacity, had, 
at length, found courage to imitate it, and was now suffi- 
ciently near to hear the answer. 

‘‘No, Madeleine — I had rather you would not overheat 
yourself. You are going soon into the damp of the river, 
you know.” 

The tones of the voice were soft, the purport of the 
words kind, yet the icy coldness of the manner, and the 
absence of all apparent sensibility to the effect of her re- 


20 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


fusal, struck the young officer with a feeling almost of dis- 
like to the dark-eyed beauty. 

There was a slight shade of disappointment on the 
young girPs brow, which deepened as her sister, in a low 
tone, which yet was wonderfully distinct in its clearness, 
said, — 

“ Monsieur !” 

Her obedient squire, M. Tremblay, was in a moment 
by her side. A few words in French, finishing with two 
or three still more emphatic in an unknown tongue, 
were answered by a profound bow. Their import might 
be guessed from the color which spread itself over the 
younger sister’s face, and from the stately air with which 
M. Tremblay took her arm within his own, drew up his 
tall form, and looked about him with a grimace of solemn 
triumph. 

“Now, nobody shall dare come and say word to you,’’ 
pronounced he, speaking in English, that he might display 
his proficiency in that language. “All dese young gent’, 
dey do be de wolf, de big, hungry prairie-wolf” (with an 
extraordinary projection of his huge, hanging under-lip), 
“ and you is de nice, pritty leetle sheep. Bum-bye come 
de wolf to catch you, den I make him one face I”— he 
suited the action to the word in a way that might have in- 
timidated the boldest — “ and dey shall all run ’way, tout de 
suite — jus’ so quick he can !” 

“ Oh, dear M. Tremblay, mustn’t I speak to anybody 
but you ?” 

“ Pardon — you shall speak one, two, tree leetle word. I 
not be afraid of nobody’s tongue — me. I keep fast hold of 
you, den no harm shall happen. Let me see who look in- 
nocent. Do you like to go talk to dat young, nice officer 
who stand by de stair ? No ? Den you shall not. Shall 
we tell dis oder one he may stop ?” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


21 


“ No, no, monsieur I” said Madeleine, her brow clearing. 
“We Avill only go a little nearer the door, where we can 
breathe the fresh air — it is so warm here.’’ 

Mr. Stafford, who had retired a little at her sister’s for- 
bidding look, was now again by her side, and the two by 
degrees fell into a conversation unembarrassed except by 
the studious efforts of the young officer to avoid any word 
or allusion that would call up the subject of predominating 
interest with him at the moment. 

Our acquaintance, Lieutenant Smithett, was of the com- 
pany, and the time did not now hang heavy on his hands. 
He found abundant food for criticism, and for inward self- 
gratulation, though, as all the world were occupied in the 
pursuit of happiness after their own fashion, he had little 
opportunity for making known the result of his observa- 
tions. 

Seeing him standing aloof, Mr. Ewing approached him 
and inquired, “Have you become acquainted with most 
of the young people ? I see you are looking at our prairie- 
belles, as we call them, those two young ladies who are 
just moving towards the door. Shall I introduce you to 
them ?” 

“ I have been presented, I thank you,” said the young 
gentleman, correcting the secretary with emphasis. “ I 
don’t find myself so much smitten with their beauty as 
some of the other beaux appear to be. The little one is 
rather pretty— her dress, too, is genteel enough I White 
always passes in a crowd — it never looks exactly old- 
fashioned, Rather an odd style the other has chosen for 
this season of the year !” He regarded Miss McGregor 
with the deliberate air of a connoisseur. “ Those are 
meant for sanguinea roses in her hair, I suppose. I won- 
der where she picked up that bright-colored challie of her 
dress — or is it a bardge ? I can’t exactly tell at this dis- 


22 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


tance. I suppose she doesn’t know that both those sorts 
of material are getting rather passes.” 

“ But they agree very well with her complexion and 
style, which are quite Oriental. Brilliant colors harmonize 
with such, better than those which are more subdued. Just 
fancy her a Sultana, and you will admire her choice.” 

“ I could never admire anybody in coral ornaments on 
such a hot evening. Besides, nobody wears coral now, 
unless it may be children.” 

Mr. Ewing, who knew very little of these things, and 
cared less, hastened to change the subject. He had hardly 
uttered a remark, when, a new theme of animadversion 
occurring to Mr. Smithett, he plunged at once into it. 

“ Holding the position you do, here in the Governor’s 
family, I should think you would be terribly annoyed that 
the people do not provide him with a more suitable dwell- 
ing. It is really too bad that he should be permitted to 
live in this old weather-beaten, tumble-down place. So 
small and contracted, too, and such low ceilings ! Why, 
if your town should some day be civilized enough to have 
gas, you could not hang a chandelier at all. I wonder he 
puts up with it.” 

Mr. Ewing, at first, opened his eyes with astonishment; 
then, amusement taking the place of surprise, he said, — 

“ Perhaps you do not take it into consideration that our 
Governor has no right to be proud. We are only a Terri- 
tory, — we are not a State yet.” 

“ Oh, I had forgot. Well, that may make a difference,” 
remarked the young officer; “but still, such a kind, re- 
spectable man as this seems to be, ought to have a decent 
home. At Albany our Governor has a most splendid man- 
sion — brick, and three stories high. How is it that your 
people don’t feel a little ambition in the matter ?” 

“But you must understand, my dear sir, that we belong 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 23 

to the General Government, and that it is the duty of the 
people at Washington to take care of us. Perhaps the 
President has a spite towards us, which he wreaks in this 
way.” 

“Oh, if that is the case, I think I can help you. My 
father is very intimate with several members of Congress; 
he would have no objection to ask them to speak to the 
President. I will write to him, and tell him how polite 
the Governor has been to me, and I am pretty sure the 
old gentleman will interest himself to get him better pro- 
vided for.” 

“ I thank you very much, in the Governor’s name,” said 
Ewing, with perfect gravity ; “ but that is a step which I 
think we must deliberate upon. The Governor, like other 
men, has his fancies ; and one is, for living in his own 
house, old and unfashionable as it is. It would incommode 
your father’s political friends to send a committee to remove 
him b}^ force into a new dwelling ; and yet I cannot see 
how, otherwise, the object would ever be accomplished.” 

“ Oh, well, if he is so obstinate as that, there is nothing 
but to let him have his own way ; but I could tell him 
there’s not a plain farmer on Long Island, or' in West 
Chester County, who would live in such a shabby sort of 
place as this.” 

Ewing had no more time to waste on Mr. Smithett; he 
soon left the young gentleman to his own reflections. These, 
after a few minutes, prompted him to turn and address a 
bright-looking young lady who, seated near, had overheard 
the dialogue between himself and the Secretary. The 
smile which she could not quite subdue was misinterpreted 
by the lieutenant. 

“She looks,” he said to himself, “as if she knew what 
was what. I don’t think she’s from New York, for I’ve 
never met her there. But I dare say she may have been 


24 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

there on a visit; she looks like it.’’ Then aloud, as he 1 
took his station still nearer to her, “ I believe you are one 
of the company going up the lakes, Miss Latimer 

“ Yes. Are we to be fellow-travellers ?” was the reply. 

“ I suppose I’ve got to go — I’m ordered to join my regi- 
ment. It would have been much pleasanter if I could 
have been allowed to stay at the East, recruiting, as my 
captain has been, I understand, for two years past. Don’t 
you repent of your bargain in undertaking this journey ?” 

“Repent?” exclaimed Miss Latimer, with animation. 
“No, indeed; why should I?” 

“ Why, ain’t you afraid you shall get dreadfully tired of 
this new country ?” 

“ Certainly not. On the contrary, I expect to be con- 
stantly more and more delighted. I have enjoyed myself 
already a thousandfold more than I anticipated, although 
I am but on the very outset of my adventures. I am pre- 
pared to be in a continuous state of rapture when I get to 
the wild woods and praipies, beyond the bounds of civili- 
zation.” • 

“ Well, I can’t say I understand your enthusiasm. The 
prospect has no such charms for me ; and as for adventures, 

I am sure I hope and pray we are not going to meet any 
of them 1 And there’s a lady who is very much of my way 
of thinking, I guess. She’s my captain’s wife, and I was 
presented to her down in Buffalo ; but she’s hardly been 
decently civil to me. That shows either that she’s out of 
sorts or isn’t much accustomed to behavior. I believe you 
are travelling with her — well, you needn’t count on having 
a very pleasant time with her. I’m tolerably penetrating. 

I alwaj^s say to myself, if a person can’t be polite and civil, 
there’s some reason or other for it — something more than 
meets the eye, as the poet says.” 

Miss Latimer would have been vexed at the little fel- 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


25 


low’s impertinence, if she had not been so much amused. 
She gravely replied, — 

“ Mrs. Lovel is a good deal out of health ; it is no won- 
der she looks careworn.” 

Not silenced, Mr. Smithett went on, — 

“ Do you know much about military affairs?” 

“ Very little.” 

“Because, if you did, you might be a great assistance 
to me. I know, of course, a good deal about the army, 
having been for several months a member of one of our 
crack corps — the Manhattan Grays ; and I have been 
drilled, and paraded, and reviewed, and all that sort of 
thing; but still there are some few things- about garrison 
duties, and customs, and fashions, you understand, that I 
should like to find out a little about, before I undertake to 
enter on them. Of course it’s not to be expected that I 
should be posted up exactly, like those who have been at 
it, day in and day out, for four years at West Point. I 
suppose these officers that I have been travelling with 
pride themselves very much on their knowledge; but 
they may keep it to themselves for all me. I sha’n’t ask 
them any more questions ; I’ve made up my mind as far 
as that is concerned. Every time I did try to find out 
anything, when we were on our way up from Buffalo, they 
would stop talking, or walk away, or something of the 
kind ” 

“Were the questions about military matters?” Miss 
Latimer could not help asking. 

“Well, no — not exactly; that is, not always. I was 
not likely to say much about such subjects, after I over- 
heard them sneering about citizen appointments. The fact 
is, they are envious, one and all, because I have got into 
the service without the drudgery they have had to undergo 
— that’s what’s the matter with them 1” 

3 


26 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER III. 

Amid rush and bustle, the noise of carts, drays, and 
barrows upon the dock, the squabbling of hackmen and 
porters, the ringing of the bell, the fizzing of steam, the 
shouting of sailors and boatmen, with the stentorian voice 
of Captain Blunt, like the blast of a trumpet, supreme above 
all, the motley crowd of passengers found their way along 
the encumbered gangway to the deck of the "CTncle Sam. 

“I sympathize with you, from the depths of iny heart,” 
Captain Lytle found means to whisper to the elder Miss 
McGregor, as, carefully making her a passage through the 
heaps of baggage which barricaded the entrance to the 
ladies’ cabin, he threw a glance beyond the open door. 

His quick eye had taken in the figure of Mrs. Hale, look- 
ing ruefully as she administered a primitive castigation to 
her eldest hope, by way of removing his objections to being 
tucked away up on a narrow shelf high above herself and 
the baby. 

“ There, Gussy — ma’s sorry ; but you must be a good 
boy, and not worry her. She’s got enough to put up with, 
without that.” 

Not far distant stood a compact, sturdy, sharp-nosed 
little woman, arrayed in a tight-fitting habit of olive cloth, 
elaborately braided, and a green silk calash which should 
have stood erect upon her head, had it not been tossed 
half-way down her back, in her agitation at finding her 
own allotted place of repose already occupied. 

The cunning passenger who had thus taken time by the 
forelock, feigning sleep or deafness, remained totally un- 
moved while the irate little woman addressed to her ques- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


21 


tions like the following: ‘‘What she thought of herself?’^ 
“Whether she had not a speck of principle?’^ “What 
would she say when the captain should come with a posse 
of the hands and pull her out of the place she’d been a 
scrouging herself into ?” . 

Finding no impression produced even by the latter threat, 
the injured party turned her artillery upon the cabin-maid. 

“ I should like to know, Biddy, how you came to let a 
mean, cheating, no-account person come and sneak into my 
berth, before ever I co uld get aboard I Do you think that, 
with my little, short legs, I’m going to climb ’way up to the 
ruff of the cabin, just to accommodate a great, tall— yes, 
I see she is tall — look at her long legs I — she has to fold 
herself up there, against the panel I Now, I should like 
to know what you think Captain Smart will say ! He 
came and put down my name the very first one, after the 
boat got here — I’m number one with him, always. I 
wouldn’t give much for your chance, if he finds out this 
trick of yours.” 

Biddy, who had her fee snug in her pocket, attempted 
no defence except the quiet remark, “ Folks has to go down 
to their tea sometimes.” 

“ Let me give you my berth — it is a lower one,” said 
Miss Latimer, anxious for peace and quietness for the sake 
of her friend, Mrs. Level. 

“You are quite welcome to mine. I prefer an upper 
one, on account of the window which is in it,” said the 
younger Miss McGregor. 

“Madeleine, I prefer you should retain your own berth 
next to mine,” interposed her sister, awaking from the 
reverie into which the parting tones of Captain Lytle had 
thrown her. 

“I’ve no wish to discommode other people, I’m sure. 
You are very good, but I won’t impose — I don’t relish 


28 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


being imposed on myself/’ said the little lady, in a softer 
tone. “ But when a body’s husband has taken his choice 
and put down her name I My husband is the sutler at the 
Prairie, and I’m going up to the Bay with him, and, if I 
like it, I may go all the way over to the Mississippi ; but 
he won’t stand my being treated in this way, and Biddy 
there knows it, for we’ve travelled backward and forward 
with her again and again. And I’m not over-given to put- 
ting up with things myself.” 

“That’s true,” said the sententious Biddy; and she 
busied herself with arranging the berth which should have 
been Miss Latimer’s, and which, after some little further 
show of opposition, Mrs. Smart accepted. Gussy’s winn- 
ings having been silenced by a judicious application of a 
few pieces of confectionery from her travelling-bag, Miss 
Latimer had at length the comfort of seeing matters in 
train for a season of repose. 

“ Does Miss McGregor never allow her sister to stir from 
her side ? and is it from pure affection that she is so watch- 
ful ?” were questions that occupied her thoughts for awhile, 
until all ideas became vague and indistinct, to be gathered 
more clearly in the dreams of innocence. 

And while she thus slumbers, let us introduce Miss Lat- 
imer more fully to our readers, and declare the errand with 
which she was journeying over these vast and untried 
waters. 

Grace Latimer, though young in years, — she was not 
yet tw^enty, — possessed a more mature character than is 
commonly found at so early an age. Kature had given 
her acuteness of perception, education and circumstance 
had iniproved her powers, and prepared her to act her part 
in life with decision and courage. She had been early left 
fatherless, the youngest of three children, and her mother, 
with a straitened income, would have found it difficult to 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


29 


rear her children suitably to the position in which they 
were born, had it not been for the kind assistance of a 
brother of her husband, Coloitel Latimer, an officer in the 
army. This gentleman had married a wealthy lady, who, 
dying without children, bequeathed to him a large fortune. 
After some years he married again, and again was left a 
widower, with an only daughter. This child, in whom his 
whole heart was bound up, he fain would have placed under 
the care of his sister-in-law, for whom his sentiments were 
those of profound respect as well as affection. But his 
suffering wife, on her death-bed, had entreated him to 
promise that her own mother should have the privilege of 
rearing her little girl, and he' had not the heart to refuse. 
Living with the grandmother were two maiden aunts, who 
all united in spoiling the unfortunate child thus intrusted 
to their care. 

The colonel had been firm in one stipulation, namely, 
that his little Edith should spend at least two months in 
every year with the aunt and cousins, whose efforts, he 
hoped, would help to weed out the evil germs which he fore- 
saw would be implanted by over-indulgence, and which, ere 
many years had passed, he found to have taken deep root. 

Mrs. Latimer was conscientious in her labors to coun- 
teract the mischief wrought by the other relatives, who, in 
the father’s absences with his regiment, had full sway ; yet 
Colonel Latimer had the grief to see his beloved daughter 
growing up to womanhood less amiable, less disinteres1»ed, 
and far less well-informed than her cousin Grace. As for 
the cardinal domestic virtues of industry, economy, and 
love of order. Grandmamma Cleveland and Aunt Sarah and 
Aunt Rebecca scouted at the idea of such homely virtues 
being insisted on. “I’m sure it’s our greatest pleasure in 
life to wait on her,” they would say; “then why should 
the poor little thing tire herself to no purpose ? As for all 

3 * 


30 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


this talk about saving and sparing — how ridiculous I when 
her father, every time he comes to see her, gives her more 
money than she knows what to do with! There is no need 
of quoting that everlasting Cousin Grace. Of coarse econ- 
omy is very well in Grace — -just the thing; but for our 
little precious, who has got plenty and more than plenty, 
it would really be too pitiful to be always pinching and 
paring 1” 

Upon one occasion her father, by way of teaching her 
the proper value of money, cut short, in some degree, the 
allowance his Edith had been spending so lavishly. He 
had the mortification to find that, in order to fill the stinted 
purse of their darling, the expensive first-rate music-teacher 
had been quietly dismissed by the aunts, and a cheap little 
novice substituted. A system like this, inevitably defeat- 
ing all attempts to inculcate right principles, showed Colo- 
nel Latimer that a stand must be taken. A friend, who 
was aware of his perplexity, counselled marriage with the 
widow of his brother, as a measure that would secure for 
his child a home and influences such as he desired ; but 
not even for her sake could he have meditated a step 
against which every feeling and principle revolted — a step 
which he knew his sister, equally with himself, regarded 
as unlawful. 

With earnest persuasions, and even with bribes to com- 
plete the bargain, the colonel obtained from the relatives 
the privilege of sending his daughter to a boarding-school 
for the last two years before bringing her to preside in his 
home, which happened, at the expiration of that time, to 
be the pleasant and not yet ultra-fashionable watering- 
place of Newport. 

Having held her position with great ^clat at the head 
of her father’s establishment for about-one year. Miss Edith 
Latimer formed the acquaintance of, and, to use the most 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


31 


appropriate phrase, “ fell in love” with, a good-looking, shal- 
low-pated young coxcomb in shoulder-straps, who, next to 
himself, did really prefer the colonel’s daughter, and who, 
in less time than a more modest man would have dreamed 
of, paid her father the compliment to make proposals for 
his only child. Colonel Latimer met the offer with a flat 
refusal. He believed Lieutenant Holcomb to be unprin- 
cipled as well as vain and silly, and he had no intention 
of confiding his daughter’s happiness to the keeping of one 
so unsuitable. So the pretty Edith was told that she must 
at once give up all idea of encouraging such a lover, and 
Mr. Holcomb was civilly invited to abstain from future 
visits, the father wisely fearing that the occasional sight 
of his handsome face and form (they were all that he had) 
might beget a contumacious spirit on the part of the young 
lady. 

Two days later. Lieutenant Holcomb disappeared from 
the gay circle of Newport ; but he did not go alone. The 
colonel, deceived by his daughter’s apparent acquiescence 
in his objections, had been induced to accept an invitation to 
dine in town ; he returned to the fort at evening, to learn 
that his daughter had been absent some hours — ^gone, no 
one knew whither. He traced and pursued the fugitives 
to Albany, where he found them already married, and 
preparing to set off for the frontier garrison home of the 
young officer. 

Though indignant and almost heart-broken, yet, as he 
could not help blaming himself for the facility with which 
he had confided the early training of his child to such in- 
competent hands, the father, after the first outburst of anger, 
forgave his headstrong child, and provided for her comfort 
by the bestowal of a sum greater than she deserved, though 
far less than the young lieutenant expected or married for. 

The post to which the thoughtless couple repaired was 


32 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


not among the most distant on the frontier, and, for the 
year that they continued at it, the occasional letters of 
Mrs. Holcomb to her father breathed no spirit of dissatis- 
faction with her lot ; on the contrary, they were filled with 
details of the frolics and amusements in which she habit- 
ually participated, and one would have gathered, from their 
style and tone, that she found in the connection she had 
formed, and the circumstances which surrounded her, all 
that her heart could desire. 

After a time came a change. “ The unexpected removal 
to a distant garrison” — “the impossibility of getting serv- 
ants” — “ the hardships of a life where supplies were dif- 
ficult to be obtained, even by those whose pay was far 
beyond that of a poor lieutenant” — finally, “the ill health,” 
“the loneliness,” “the wretchedness I” Desertion or in- 
difference on the part of her husband was not hinted at; 
but, “ Oh ! if she had but one friend to sympathize with 
her 1 one single link to the home she had given up without 
realizing what she was indeed resigning ! Where was dear 
Cousin Grace ? Was she married and happy? And had 
she forgotten poor Edith, whom she once loved ? How sad 
to have no sister, that one could feel a freedom in inviting 
to share one’s solitary home for a time I So many of the 
ladies of the garrison had sisters or cousins to come for a 
season and enliven their lonely hours!” 

Grace read the letter which the colonel brought for their 
perusal. She looked up in her uncle’s face. She thought 
of her brother educated, and now just started in life by the 
aid of that kind relative — of her mother’s amended income 
— of the many advantages which, but for him, could never 
have been hers or her sister’s ; but most of all she remem- 
bered the fatherly kindness with which he had watched 
over every step of her life, and helped her mother to train 
her for usefulness and happiness. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


33 


There was a struggle as she thought of leaving that 
mother and the beloved, pleasant home — it was but for a 
moment. Looking up with a bright smile, she said, “Do 
you wish me to go to Edith, uncle ? Is that what you 
would prefer?” 

“ Yes, my dear, it is indeed what I should wish, though 
I should hardly have dared to propose it,” said her uncle, 
with emotion. “You are a noble girl, Grace | may God 
reward and bless you I You little know what you under- 
take ; but of this you cannot fail to assure yourself — that 
next to myself you can best comfort and perhaps benefit 
my poor wayvyard child., .borrow may have disciplined 
her, and there may yet be bright days in. store for us.” 

An opportunity, of travelling West, under the escprt of 
Captain and Mrs. Lovel, was soon after embraced by Miss 
Latimer, whose uncomfortabie, forebodings in regard to her 
cousin were, in a measure, dissipated by the assurance . of 
Mrs. Lovel, that the worst; attacks which Mrs. Helcomb 
suffered from were, she believed, “fits of the blues.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

It must have been instinct which told Miss Latimer, on 
the following morning, that the sun was beginning to cast 
bis beams across the waters, for every ray of light, as well 
as every breath of fresh air, was excluded from the little 
cabin. Npt alone were heaps of baggage and freight piled 
in such a way as almost to. close up the principal opening, 
but cords upon cords of WQod^ which were to furnish fuel 
until the Uncle Sam should arrive at the far-distant island 


34 


MARK LOGAN-, THE BOURGEOIS. 


of Mackinac, were packed into every available nook, eflfect- 
uall}’’ darkening the little windows. 

According to an agreement on the previous evening, Grace 
wakened her young friend^ and both were proceeding to 
make their early toilets by the dim light of a japanned 
lamp which stood upon the table, when the soft tones of 
Miss McGregor’s voice were' heard : 

“ Is that you, Madeleine ? I had rather you lay quiet 
in your berth till the bell rings for .the passengers to 
rise.” 

“ But, Monica, it is so hot and close,” pleaded the young 
girl. “ I have hardly been able to breathe all night, and 
the smell of the lamp is so stifling !” 

“What the rest of us can bear, you will be able to, I 
dare say,” was the calm reply. “ To go oat upon the deck 
before M. Tremblay is ready to attend you, is a thing not 
to be thought of.” 

“ Bless your heart ! if you are afraid of anything happen- 
ing to your little sister. I’ll take care of her for you. I 
promise you I won’t let any harm come to her,” said Mrs. 
Smart, who was already astir, and energetically screwing 
herself into her olive-colored riding-habit. 

The obliging offer was quietly but resolutely declined, 
and Madeleine could only seat herself wearily in the rock- 
ing-chair until the wished-for sound of the bell should bring 
release in the shape of the tall, gaunt Frenchman. 

“ Shall I wait for you, dear ? I don’t care for going out 
just now,” whispered her new friend. 

{‘Oh, no,” said the young girl; “it is not worth while. 
Go now, if you please ; I will join you by-and-by.” 

Miss Latimer did as she was desired, yet chafing in- 
wardly, and murmuring to herself, — 

“ How absurd 1 I wonder if all Western people are so 
suspicious and so queer ?” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


35 


Mrs. Smart’s conmients were more audible. 

‘‘That dark-compleeted young woman isn’t over-and- 
above agreeable, for all she’s so pretty-spoken. I’m sure 
her little 'sister looks innocent and sensible enough to^be 
trusted 0 (Ut of her sight. Well, it takes ail kinds of folks 
to make a world, they, say.” • 

There seemed to be but one way of enjoying the beauties 
of Nature, eveli after they were out upon the deck, and of 
that Miss Latimer availed herself. , Defying all the perils 
of dirt, turpentine, and i Splinters, she climbed upon a huge 
box, and with some difiBculty forced an opening Through 
one of 'the piles Of wood; where she could peer out and 
catch a glimpse of Lake St. Clair, over whose calm, lonely 
waters they were now passing; 

Mrs. Smart would fain have followed her, but, hev phy~ 
sique presenting formidable obstacles to such an enter- 
prising Search after the pieturesqUe, she Wes'; obliged to 
cast about for some other source of amusement. Suddenly 
a thought struck her. 

“ Gracious me 1 what are we thinking of ?: There’s the 
promenade-deck — -that’s- the place for a Christian to go to!” 
she exclaimed, rather irreverently. “ Come,I’U pilot! you. 
We shall have it all to ourselves, and it’s a most a splendid 
place for a view ; and even a good snuff of the morning air 
is worth going for.” 

The last suggestion was irresistible. Descending from 
the elevation on which she had been perched, the young 
lady followed her guide as she threaded her way to the 
open space; amidships, then clambered up' the stairway 
which, steep, narrow, and exposed^ led to the upper deck. 

Two gentlemen were already promenading there. Her 
companion being in advance, Miss Latimer was able to 
retreat, as sbu hoped, unseen, and at some hazard made 
good her footing on the floor below. Mrs. Smart stood 


86 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


her ground for a comprehensive survey of all within range 
of her eye, before reluctantly following the example of her 
companion. . 

‘■Why, what in the world did you turn back for?^^ she 
exclaimed. “ One of those gentlemen looked so pleased 
when he caught sight of you! I’d have give a good deal 
if you’d only have stayed a few minutes longer I There 
is something that I wanted you to look at, ’way off at the 
farther end of the deck. I took a good squint at it myself; 
it’s all covered over with a great black oil-cloth. What in 
the world do you suppose it is ?” 

“ Some luggage or freight, perhaps. They have covered 
it, probably, to keep it from being rained on.” 

“ Don’t you believe it’s anything of the sort. If it was 
baggage, why shouldn’t they leave it down here, along with 
the rest? and if it’s freight, why didn’t they put it down 
in the hole ? That tall ofl^cer, that looks as if the earth 
wasn’t quite' good enough for him to walk on, seemed to 
have been showing the other young man what was under- 
neath ; and what looks mysterious, too, is, that as soon as 
I popped my head up the stairway and caught them at it, 
they kind o’ walked away. Now, what in the world do 
you suppose it can be ?” ' 

Miss Latimer had no theory upon the subject— it was 
one that did not particularly interest her ; and, to Mrs. 
Smart’s disappointment, she, without further speculation, 
returned to the cabin, to attend to the comfort of Mrs. 
Lovel. 

After breakfast the company generally repaired to the 
promenade-deck, a delightful refuge from the heat and 
gloom of the cabins: An awning bad been stretched as a 
shelter from the fierce rays of the sun, and under it ladies, 

oflBoers, commissioners, and civilians were soon seated 

some reading, some playing chess or backgammon, some 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 3*7 

engaged in conversation, according to the humor of the 
moment. 

Miss Latimer, ardent in all her feelings, was quite en- 
thusiastic in her admiration of the youngest Miss McGre- 
gor — “ So sweet, with such arch, pretty ways I And she 
seems frank ; yet, somehow, she is not expansive, as I 
imagined a Western girl would be. On the contrary, there 
seems now and then a shade of reserve. I wonder whether 
it is from having lived in Quebec? The English are pro- 
verbially so reticent 1 Or possibly it is because she is so 
kept down and watched so closely by her sister.” 

Such was her mental rehearsal of Madeleine’s qualities, 
as the latter sat, pencil in hand; trying to catch, as well 
as the constantly-shifting position , of the jarring, puffing 
little steamer would allow, the finest points of the varying 
landscape.. 

“ How lovely, that opening is I” exclaimed Miss Latimer, 
as they were passing a glade of peculiar beauty. “How 
magnificent those trees on the farther verge, just drooping 
to meet their own image reflected in the glassy waters ! 
How strange and grand the feeling is, as one gazes on the 
vast solitudes, and thinks of them as untrodden, perhaps 
for years together, by the foot of man I But you are more 
accustomed than I am to scenes and images like these. 
On the Mississippi, in the neighborhood of your own 
home, there must be so much that is wild, and vast, and 
romantic 1 Oh, how you must long for your home 1” 

“ Yes, to see papa — he is my home 1 You renaember 
that I have no mother,” said Madeleine^ with an ex- 
pressioa of sadness shadowing her fair brow. “I love 
the Mississippi, and our lovely prairie — yet I have 
been very contented away from it. Doesn’t that seem 
strange?” 

“ I do not think boarding-schoois, as a general rule, quite 

4 


38 MARK LOQAK, THE BOURGEOIS. 

fill the place of our own homes,” said Miss Latimer, 
laughing. 

“ Oh, it was not in the school that I was so happy — it 
was in my vacations, that I always spent with friends Of 
papa’s.” 

'‘Were there young people in tfte family, or were the 
friends of your father’s age ?” ' 

“ Mr. Lindsay is about my father’s age— Mrs. Lindsay 
died about a year ago — not long after my own mother. I 
think a similar grief bound us still closer together.” 

“A similar grief? Mr. Lindsay’s and ydurs?” 

‘‘No, no — Mr. Lindsay’s two ehildren'—they were my 
dear friends — Olara and Malcolm. Clara is but three 
months older than I am.” 

“And Malcolm ?” * ' 

“ He is five years older — rather more than five yedrs.” 

*^How grieved they must have been to part with you !” 

“ It was a very sad parting between Clara and me.’ Her 
brother was away before that time.” 

“And he willreturnto find his little friend gone !’’ 

“ When he does return,” said Madeleine, and, as if to 
change the subject, applying herself busily to her pencil. 

Miss Latimer', however, was beUt u^bn learning more of 
this young friend, or, rather, of the ybudg friend’s brother. 

“You Will have the happihess of hearing' from them 
from time to tirne, for of course you will corresj^ond ?” 

“I do not know— Clara will write if her father ap- 
proves.” 

“ Approves ? You can hardly doubt that.” 

“ I should once have thought so, but when w6 were 
planning how constantly we should hear from each other, 
her father remarked that we should Soon have enotlgh of 
the serious duties of life to put romance out of our heads.” 

“Mr. Lindsay must be a very practical persdh,” re- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


39 


marked Miss Latimer. Does he class the correspoiidence 
of the sister and brother under the head of romance 

‘‘ I think not,’^ was the brief reply. 

The conversation was here interrupted by the approach 
of Mr. Stafford with a late magazine, which the absorption 
of Madeleine’s appointed Argus, in a game of euchre with 
Captain Lovel, left him free to offer to the ladies. 

Mr. Ewing had been early taken captive by one of the 
commissioners, who, proposing to wrUe a book after his 
return to the civilized world, was making diligent use of 
his time to extract from one who had passed his life upon 
the frontiers a mass of aboriginal matter with which to 
swell and enibeliish his production. 

I shall squeeze him as I would a lepion I” had been 
his remark to the; governor on hearing what had been the 
young secretary’^ facilities for acquiring knowledge that 
could be thus made available. So, instead of enjoying, as 
he had designed, the sprightly conversation of Mi^s Lath 
mer, the poor young secretary was condemned, during 
the Jong, tedious summer forenoon, to undergo a course 
of catechising which was anything but congenial to his 
taste. • 

Mrs. Smart, in the mean fime, had found in Mrs. Hale a 
sympathizing spirit in regard to the subject of her morning’s 
observations. T^ogether they gazed frem a distance upon 
the mysterious j^lack oil-cloth, which still stood its ground 
upon the upper deck, and together they speculated upon 
the wonders, or the horrors, it might possibly enshroud. 

“ I declare, I don’t know what I sha’n’t begin to believe 
about.it,” whispered Mrs. Hale, with a shudder. 

'‘ Particularly,” responded Mrs. Smart, " as, we can’t 
help seeing that the tall officer there, though he pretends 
to be so taken up with that darkish young woman, keeps 
his eye fixed on everybody that so much as walks towards 


40 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

it. What if it should be gunpowder, or something of that 
sort, to blow us all up 

“ Oh, my dear gracious! how you do make me creep! 
Of course, if there wasn’t something wrong he wouldn’t 
be on the watch so,” assented Mrs. Hale. 

“ It certainly looks very black. I’ve a great mind to 
ask Smart what he thinks about it,” observed one lady. 

“And I Mr. Hale,” said the other ; “ only if I speak to 
him it may put him in mind to give me back those two 
children to take care of.’’ 

Later in the day, when the passengers had refreshed 
themselves with o, siesta, they were again assembled on 
the promenade-deck. It seemed to have become Miss 
McGregor’s turn to contribute to the stock of information 
which the commissioner was accumulating. 

“Now is the tirrie,” said Lieutenant Stafford to himself. 
“ In a conversation like this, something must certainly be 
elicited to confirm or contradict what Ewing hinted at last 
night.” 

He drew near enough to hear Colonel Babbitt, the com- 
missioner, remark,- — 

“I shall probably see but little of the Winnebagoes on 
my trip, it not being in contemplation to hold a treaty with 
that tribe at present.” 

“ That is well,” w^as Miss McGregor’s quiet comment. 

“And why so, my dear young lady ? Ho you not look 
forward with solicitous impatience to a time when the 
whole of bur magnificent country will be open to the 
footprints of civilization ? — when the wilderness shall 
rejoice and blossom as the rose ? I should have sup- 
posed that in your home in the Far West you would 
welcome the consummation of measures by which our 
enterprising emigrants can be secured in the quiet enjoy- 
ment of their frontier possessions ; when the bloodthirsty 


MARK LOQAN^ THE BOURGEOIS. 


41 


savages who now so fearfully jeopardize their lives and 
property can be transferred to some far remote region, and 
the tomahawk and scalping-knife no more reek with the 
blood of the victims of their barbarity.” 

Miss McGregor’s cheeks were all aflame while the com- 
missioner thus pompously harangued, rather the company 
than herself. Her chest heaved, and her eyes shot forth 
a light beyond even their ordinary brilliance, as she re- 
peated, — 

“ Savages ? Bloodthirsty ? And who, sir^ made them 
such? Were they .not peaceful — were they not quietly 
happy — when, . as lords, they trod the soil which their Al- 
mighty Father had given them t And even now, when 
another race has come with arts to circumvent them in their 
simplicit}^, to trick and cajole them out of their homes, till 
there is scarce a resting-place left for them upon the face 
of the earth, would they not be still a peace-loving and a 
dutiful people if the cupidity of the white man were not 
ever on the alert to, snatch the last sordid morsel from the 
mouths of their wives and their little ones ? Is it not 
enough that the ploughshare has turned up the bones of 
our fathers — yes, sir, I speak for my people, my race — is 
it not enough that your Government has wrested from my 
people their homes, their villages, their beautiful lakes and 
islands and prairies, but that one in whose veins runs the 
blood of these unfortunates must be called upon for con- 
gratulations at the prospect of their utter extermination 

“Oh, pray, pray pardon me, madam!” exclaimed the 
thunderstruck commissioner. “ I am sure I had no idea 
—not the slightest intention — I would not for all the 
world— 

“No, sir, you would not have spoken your thoughts 
aloud — that I can easily believe. But has it never oc- 
curred to you to question whether a judgment is not per- 

4 =^ 


42 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

haps laid up in store for all the violations of faith prac- 
tised, all the injustice permitted, all the heartless outrages 
winked at, in order to gain a teriitory, the God-given 
inheritance of a people to whom the gentler arts of life 
could in time have been taught, and they made useful and 
happy citizens ?” 

“Again I must ask your pardon,” said the commissioner, 
who had by this time recovered something of his ordinary 
self-complacent manner. “ But have you not forgotten 
that it is the various tribes themselves who have, from time 
to time, divested themselves of portions of their territory 
by their own free will — a treaty on the part of Government 
securing to them a just' equivalent for what they thus 
cheerfully yielded ?” 

“ Forgotten ? No. But you are, I dare say, not a 
novice, sir,” replied Miss McGregor. “You can tell me 
what a treaty is. First, a surreptitious influence exerted 
over certain of the tribe who have fallen into the snares 
and perhaps the vices of their more accomplished neigh- 
bors ; next, an assembling, on an appointed day, of such 
as are expected to be practicable tools, and an entering 
into stipulations which are to be held complete and ir- 
revocable — all this before, in answer to a tardy summons, 
the recognized chiefs and leaders of the tribe arrive, to find 
their council-fires, and graves, and hunting-grounds gone 
and they themselves compelled to accept some remote, 
desolate tract, too worthless to tempt the white man for 
yet a brief season to drive them once more from it.” 

“I am afraid you take too exaggerated a view of the 
matter,” said the commissioner. 

“ The Governor, who sits there beside you, will tell you 
that I do not. He has ever been the friend of our race. 
He understands our wrongs, and sympathizes with them ; 
but he is not the Government. If the power of redress 


MARK LOGAN, TH^ BOURGEOIS. 


43 


lay in hi^ hands, there would be some hope ; but what can 
he do singly?” 

Still, my dear young lady, it is a problem — a problem. 
Who can solve it? When God, in his. providence, sent 
the Anglo-Saxon to this coptineot, he sent him in his 
recognized nature — aggressive against ignorance and bar- 
barism. His mission was to conquer the waste, howling 
wilderness. Has. not the bard beautifully sung, ‘Westward 
the star of empire takes its way’ ?” 

“ Then will God’s pro vidence, since you call it such, also 
nerve the avenging hand of the victim, as it has already 
done. . Often and oftjBn wiH that star, of which you are 
pleased to boast, be quenched in the blood or stifled in the 
smoke which marks its progress 1 It is for coming gen- 
erations to testify whether the foundations of an empire 
thus laid shall prove stable and sure.” 

Miss McGregor walked to the. guards on the farther side 
of the promenade-deck, and, slightly supporting herself on 
the railing, r,eni{iined for a tiipe gazing far away over the 
western waters. Her sister Ipokpd after her a moment, 
theu rose and followed her, and would have taken her hand. 

“ Do not make a scene, Madeleine,” said Monica. “ Re- 
turn to^ your place ; you cannot enter into my feelings. 
Why, should you appear to do so ?” 

“ Indeed, I do enter into your feelings of grief and dis- 
tress. Wby will you not allow me to pssure you of it? 
Why do you so invariably act as if I were something that 
in no way belonged to you?” 

“And do you? Well, if ypu will not return without 
me, I will accompany you. I shall not give tbose whom 
I despise the triumph of thinking they have moved me.” 

Subduing by a mighty effort all appearance of emotion, 
Miss McGregor walked calmly back with her sister, and, 
seating herself, commenced a conversation on some ordinary 


44 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


topic with her and Miss Latimer in her customary soft and 
gentle tones. 

“By Jove I she’s a most splendid creature!” Captain 
Lytle declared, mentally, as he followed with deep interest 
her every word and movement. “ There^s character 1 There 
is power I Upon my word, I could worship her I Indeed, 
I think I do worship her ! But yet — to hear her proclaim- 
ing herself one of the race I” He gave a little shrug. 

“ And so she really is of that blood, after all,” thought 
Lieutenant Stafford, looking after Madeleine. “ She does 
not seem to glory in it. I think I should be better pleased 
if she did. And yet I don’t know — it is hard to say.” 


CHAPTER y. 

Before tea-time Mrs. Smart had a liOw recruit in her 
crusade against the black oil-cloth. 

While peering about, in company with Mrs. Hale^ they 
chanced to espy Mr. Smithett, sauntering amidships, and 
waiting for the first ^ound of the tea-bell, that he might 
slip down and secure the most comfortable seat at table, 
before the descent of the rest of the passengers. 

The people who fed the furnace had by this time remoV^ed 
a portion of the wood which had formed so uncomfortable 
a barrier around the cabin-door, and there were now nooks 
here and there, for snug little confidential conversations. 
Taking advantage of one of these, the sutler’s wife drew 
Mrs. Hale aside, but not before the latter, feeling that the 
momentous circumstances of the case justified an abandon- 
ment of ceremony, called out, eagerly, — 

“ Oh, Lieutenant Smithett — do come here a moment. 


MARK LOGAKy THE BOURGEOIS. 


45 


We have got something so terribly particular to tell you 1 
Mrs. Smart, Lieutenant Smithett, of Bowling-green Place 
— Lieutenant, this is Mrs. Smart, wife of the principal sut- 
ler at Prairie de something — I can’t justly recollect, this 
minute ; but at such a dismal time a body can hardly recol- 
lect their own name, rightly.’* 

Her nervous manner begot a corresponding trepidation 
in the young ofiBceri “What is it ?” he asked. “Anything 
the matter ? Anything going to happen ?” 

Mrs. Smart, without circumlocution, imparted her sus- 
picions, or,- as she called them, her moral certainties, of 
there being some dreadful mischief a brewing; and she 
gave the details' of all she knew and all she suspected. 
The young gentleman turned pale as he gasped, — 

“ Gunpowder ? You don’t really think so ? Why, good 
gracious! What if there should come up a thunder-storm, 
and it should strike, and blow us all to atoms?” 

“ Or what,*’ said Mrs. Hale, turning up her eyeS, and 
looking as if ready to be sacrificed, “ what if they should be 
carboys of vitriol ? They might burst of their own accord, 
on such a hot day, and set the decks and the steamboat all 
alight, before we could turn round to help ourselves !” 

“Why, it’s positively infamous ! I’ll go and blow the 
captain up about it, this very minute,” said Mr. Smithett, 
Stamping in his excitement. 

“ No, ne ; don’t you do that; ' I’d never advise anybody 
to try their hand at blowing up Captain Blunt. Why, 
he’d make nd bones of having one of the' boats alongside, 
and setting you ashore, all alone among the bears and the 
tigers, on the first point of land we come to. Whatever 
we do, we’ve got to speak the captain fair. Let me alone 
for finding out whether they’ve got any gunpowder aboard, 
and if not, I’ve my plan for to-morrow morning, if you two 
will only stick by me,” 


46 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Full alleg'iance and co-operation being promised, Mrs. 
Smart went cunningly to work, and, by virtue of a slight 
fee to one of the waitei*s, she secui'ed a seat at the tea-table 
close beside the captain, from whom she, in the course of 
the meal, contrived to extract the fact that there was nei- 
ther gunpowder nor oil of vitriol on board. - 

Mrs. Hale and the young lieutenant heaved sighs of 
relief when informed of this,; nevertheless, they were 
rather gratified than otherwise when Mrs. Smart vehe- 
mently a$serted,-^ 

“For all that, there’s something wrong! You stick tp 
me, and I’ll engage to find out what it is.” 

When the company assembled at the .breakfasti table, on 
the following morning, Mrs. Smart was not among them, 
nor did she make her appearance until the meal- was nearly 
over. When she> at length, .glided down and took her 
seat, there was that in her manner and countenance which 
told that a discovery had been made. She could, not eat, 
but by a silent gesture, as they were leaving the table, she 
invited her colleagues to follow her, at the same time lay- 
ing a detaining hand on her husband, that bo might join 
the ©onclavo. 

“ And now, Smart,” she began, as soon as she bad got 
the trio out of hearing of the other passengers, “ I hope it’c 
the last time you’ll set up to cpntradict me: I told you 1 
knew there was something there’d no business to be, under 
that black oil-cloth *, and what do you think it is She 
did not give her husband time to guess, but exclaimed, 
triumphantly, — “A dead body ! neither more nor less than 
a corpse! And people presuming to bring it along with 
us — ou board of thin boat — in hot weather 1 Why, it’s 

enough to kill every mother’s child of us !” 

Ejaculations of horror from the lieutenant, and from 
Mrs. Hale a faint “ Oh, my gracious ! Gussy, don’t pull so 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


4t 


at mommy’s hand^ dear — you’ll upset me right ojff of my 
balance 1” 

Mr. Smithett presently recovered himself. 

“A dead body!” he exclaimed. “ How dare they take 
such a liberty with respectable people’s lives ? It’s posi- 
tively outrageous 1 Let’s go and speak to the Governor — 
he must havm full power here, even if this isn’t anything 
more than a Territory. It’s his duty to have that colBii 
pitched into the lake at once I” 

“ And the folks who brought it, after it 1” said the 
energetic Mrs. Smart. 

‘‘Now, will you listen to reason?” began Mr. Smart. 

“Listen to reason ? No, indeed,” interruptod his wife. 
“ Do you listen to the truth. Here I’ve been telling you, 
for tbi^ last twenty-four hours, that they’d got something 
they’d nohusiness to have, up there. I began to mistrust 
what it was last evening — I had to keep a putting Up my 
handkerchief and smelling at my bottle of Preston salts — 
but, then, I said, maybe it’s- only bilge^water.’t 

“ Oh, dear me !” groaned Mr.s. Hale. 

“ Yes,” pursued Mrs. Smart, you would keep on saying 
‘ nonsense’ — so, now, if you’ll just step up on deck with me, 
all of you, that’s all I ask.” 

“ The best way is, certainly, to go up on deck and sec 
if we can get to the bottom of the matter,’? said the imper- 
turbable Mr. Smart. 

“ Wait a minute for me, till I just run to my berth and 
get my bottle of campbirc,” pleaded Mrs. Halo. 

“ Fortunately, I always carry a vinaigrette with me,” 
said Mr. Smithett, with an air that was meant to bo indif- 
ferent, but which did not disguise the tremor with which 
he drew a little, gilded trifle from his pocket and applied it 
to his nose. 

Soon the party was in marching order, and, filing along. 


48 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


they climbed to the promenade-deck. It chanced that the 
captain of the Uncle Sam was at that moment at the 
head of the little, narrow stair, preparing to descend. 

Mrs. Smart pounced upon him. 

“ Captain, will you just please to step this way a mo- 
ment she abruptly asked, as she brushed past all who 
might impede her passage. “ I don’t pretend to say who 
may be to blafaae, sir,” she proceeded, with compressed 
energy, “but this I do say, that it is high time somebody 
was made answerable for what is aboai’d of this boat, and 
a being carried on this upper deck ” 

“ And I think exactly so,” put in Mrs. Hale, hysterically. 

“ Endangering the lives of Government passengers I” 
added Mr. Smithett. 

“It is not often that I meddle or make,” continued the 
sutler’s wife, “ but I certainly do not think ” 

“ Nor I neither,” echoed her friend. 

“ Everybody owes a duty to. themselves, particularly if 
they happen to bear a regular commission,” con'oborated 
the lieutenailt. 

“ Eor my part, I don’t consider it’s out of the way to ask 
this gentleman, who, they tell me, is an engineer officer,” 
pointing to Captain Lytle, as he, seeing the direction the 
party was taking, also approached the critical spot. 

“ To ask him,” raising her voice, “ whaf right he has, 
when one of his men happens to die, to have him boxed up 
and brought along with him, a breeding a contagion and 
an epidemic, and, maybe, being the death of us all I” 

The other passengers sprang to their feet, and, with 
manifest excitement, pressed nearer. Mrs. Hale applied 
one nostril to the camphor-bottle, and held the other close 
with her forefinger ; the lieutenant snuffed vigorously at 
his vinaigrette. 

“ What the h — 1 does all this mean ?” growled the cap- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 49 

tain with an oath at least as deep as the centre of the 
earth. 

“ If you want to know, sir,’’ said Mrs. Smart, elevating 
her voice to match the one which addressed her, “just ask 
the gentleman there to please to turn up that black oil- 
cloth, and show the passengers, if he dares, what they are 
all a ti’avelling with.” 

; Captain Lytle obligingly stepped forward and threw 
back the. canvas cover, disclosing a low, wooden box, of 
oblong form, the side of which was labelled in conspicuous 
letters. 

“ There !” cried Mrs. Smart, half ruefully, half triumph- 
antly, “you can read the initials of the poor fellow’s 
name— U. S. It seems they did not think it worth while 
to paint the whole name, though they have mentioned 
that it was an engineer’s corpse. What have you got to 
say now, I ask, Captain Blunt?” 

Mrs. Hale had been silently handing round her bottle 
of camphor, which significant warning had kept most of 
the company at a respectful distance from the object in 
question. Nevertheless, some began to titter in expecta- 
tion of what was coming ; and when Captain Lytle, with 
the utmost gravity, drew a key from his pocket, and, ap- 
plying it to the lock, raised the lid of the box aud displayed 
to the astonished Mrs. Smart a collection of mathematical 
and surveying instruments neatly packed, the laugh be- 
came uproarious. 

“ Well, now,T am beat 1” said the little woman. “ No- 
thing but, that ? Why, who would have thought that the 
imagination could have smelt so^ for all the world like 
bilge-water ? But, anyhow, it was all this officer’s fault I 
He had no, business to have gone and marked his box 
engineer's corpse, just to frighten folks. ‘ H. S. — Engineer 
Corpse,’ ” she read aloud, with an emphasis she meant to 

5 


50 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


be convincing. Then, turning to Mr, Smitbett, she said, 
consolingly, “ Well, never mind. DonT look so pale and 
so cut up about it ; it’s well it’s nothing worsU.” 

“Who’s cut up, I’d like to know?” said that young 
gentleman, angrily turning bis back upon her. “I be- 
lieve,” he added, addressing Stafford, who was striving to 
compose his countenance, “that it is the safest way never 
to undertake to sympathize vrith those sort ‘ of people — 
they’ve no sort of gratitude, and they generally end by 
making themselves very disagreeable and ridiculous.” 

“ Mais quoi I” exclaimed Monsieur Tremblay, puckering 
his eyebrows and thrusting out his under lip in perplexity. 
“ What for dey mark him United States corps, ven dere 
no corps at all; noting but little fid-fad machine and 
quelqu’chose. Nobody dead and spile. C’est fort drole 
9a I” 


CHAPTER VI. 

It was hardly mid-day when the beautiful island of 
Mackinac greeted the view of the travellers. 

Exclamations of delight and admiration from those who 
beheld it for the first time were as enthusiastic as even 
Mr. Ewing could desire. That young gentleman had been 
giving Miss Latimer some sketches of the history and tra- 
ditions of the island, and of bis own experience during a 
sojourn of some years upon it — of the long winters, when 
letters from the outside world came, by express, only twice 
during the whole season — of a sleigh-ride on the ice in 
the harbor in the last week of May — of gathering ice on 
the shores on the first of June! Now, afthr pointing out 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


51 


to her the site of the old Fort Miehillimackinac, the taking 
of which by the Indians in the “ Pontiac War” furnished 
so thrilling an incident in the early annals of the country, 
he was calling her attention to the resemblance between 
the outline of the island and the,foriii of a huge green 
turtle reposing upon the waters. 

Mr. Tremblay and Miss McGregor were meanwhile 
standing side by side, looking with intense earnestness 
towards the harbor which they were approaching. 

Now we must keep sharp look-out, if we can see de 
boat,” said the former. ‘‘ Dey mus’ be come. Dey leave 
Lachine tree week, four week — no? Attendezl We 
come from Montreal — no^ we come from Quebec — yes, <ien 
we come past La Marriale^* and den come up to de Bos- 
ton, Dat’s it— den we come to Buffalo — ^no, to de Fall, 
and we make stay two, tree day ; and we stay some more 
day in Buffalo, and one week to Detroit wid dat respecta- 
ble Monsieur Legrave ; so dat makci let me see— so many 
days.” He counted en , his fingers until he grew quite 
puzzled. 

“ Yes, monsieur, we have been more than three weeks,” 
said Madeleine, coming to bis aid. 

“ Yes, andde boaWdey baye departed : before we come 
to Lachine,” said Monsieur Tremblay. 

“I had hoped they would have been here by this time; 
and yet I see nothing of them,” said Miss McGregor. 
“Mr. Ewing, will you be so obUging as to lend me your 
spyglass for a minute ?” She swept the bay and coast in 
search of the objects of her solicitude. “They assuredly 
are not here. How disappointing 1 how perplexing I Mr. 
Patterson, if he could not have accompanied them, should 
at least have made sure that they were under the charge 


^ -Montreal. 


52 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


of a bourgeois* who understood the importance of prompt- 
ness and dispatch. Now I suppose we will be detained 
here at Mackinac until they arrive.” There was vexation 
in the tone of the young lady as she uttered these words. 

The delay will give us a little longer time to Visit dear 
Mrs. Malcolm,” said Madeleine, cheerfully. “And going to 
the Bay in an bpen boat may be, upon the wholes more 
pleasant than being cooped up in the cabin of the Uncle 
Sam. I wonder if Mrs: Lovel and MiSs Latimer would not 
like to take passage with us in the MackiOac boat, by way 
of change?” 

“What an absurd idea !” said her sister. “ We will, at 
any rate, not plan till we know how matters arei” 

The little steamer drew up beside the “ public wharf,” 
which Certainly did not rival the docks of Liverpool in the 
elegance and solidity of its architecture. Soon all were 
in the bustle and confusion of debarkation. 

“ I must leave you, dear, for we are going to the house 
of a friend,” whispered Madeleine to Grace. “ Possibly we 
may not come back to the steamer again. Papa’s boats 
from Montreal seem not yet to have arrived ; they were 
coming by a different route from the one we have taken — 
up the Ottawa River, you know. If we had met them here, 
and Monsieur Tremblay, or perhaps I should say Monica” 
(she smiled as she corrected herself), “could have^ seen 
that they were all right, we might have gone on with you 
to the Bay. At any rate, we shall meet there, and enjoy a 
little more of each other’s society.” • 

With kisses and tender pressures of the hand, the friends 
were about to part. “You will go, I suppose, to McKim’s, 
for the time the boat remains,” said Madeleine. < “ I wish 
I could ask you to accompany us, but Monica would not, 


* The superintendent of a party of clerks or voyageurs — the boas. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


53 


perhaps, approve of my taking such a liberty with Mrs. 
Malcolm. Of myself, I would as soon do it as not.” 

She hurried away in obedience to her sister’s call, and 
accepted the escort of M. Tremblay, who was waiting for 
her, while Miss McGregor suffered herself to be piloted by 
Captain Lytle along the narrow, rickety dock, and thence 
to the Company’s buildings, conspicuous among which 
stood the dwelling of Mr. Malcolm. 

The elegant and gracious lady who received the party, 
folding Madeleine in her arms and welcoming her with a 
tenderness almost maternal, was an old friend of Mr. Mc- 
Gregor’s. She had never before seen his eldest daughter, 
and she now looked upon her with admiring interest. 

‘‘I have greatly wished to meet you,” she said, for 
your father’s and sister’s sake. This dear child quite 
wound herself into our hearts when she was with us three 
years ago, and it was a particular satisfaction to me to 
know that I was to see you both at this time. Did you 
not meet Mr. Malcolm at the dock ? He went to the boat 
to receive you.” 

“ To receive us I” repeated Miss McGregor, with a look 
of surprise; “ How did he divine that- we would be on 
board ?” 

“ The boats brought the news of your being on the way.” 

“ The Company’s boats ? Is it possible ? Have they 
been already here ?” 

“Yes, they arrived yesterday, took in their additional 
loading, and, without waiting for a holiday, were off in the 
evening-.^’ 

“ Then Mr. Patterson must have got the better of his 
rheumatism, and come along as bourgeois I” 

“No; the boats were under the charge of a clerk — quite 
a young man, but enterprising, and entirely au fait of his 
business, as you can see by the short time he has taken to 

5 * 


54 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


make the trip — ojily a little more than three we^ks, he told 
me, instead ef the six or eight that are uspally consumed. 
And yet his engages do not appear to gfumble. They 
laughed and sang, at their work, and seemed as anxious as 
the bourgeois himself ito be off at the earliest imoment.’V 

“Is it a clerk who ha§ been up in, the country ,b?fot;e ? 
What is his namei’^ ; . 

“ His name is Logan. I . strolled down to tho heach 
yesterday afternoon to watch operations, for want pf . some- 
thing more amusing, and, observing the. poculiarly skilful 
and masterly manner in which matters were being con- 
ducted, I made the same inquiry that you have done ; but 
the young man told me he had never before crossed Lake 
Huron. 

“ What sort of a person is he T’tMiss McGrregor asked. 

“ Wery much the . gentleman, and; evidently a thorough, 
business-like person; Mr. Malcolm was entirely satisfied 
with Mr. Patterson’s choice of a bourgeois, 

The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of 
Mr. Malcolm, accompanied by Mr. Ewing. 

“Ah, my friend Frank,” said Mrs. Malcolm, her coun- 
tenance beaming with satisfaction, /‘So you are in the 
Governor’s train, and on your way to the Treaty they are 
to hold. May the chiefs hold resolutely to . their rights 
till they get good terms, this time I’’ 

Mr. Malcolm was welcoming and making inquiries of 
the young. ladies, .. 

“ Logan, the young man who e.atne up as bourgeois; told 
me you would be here about this time,” he said, ‘t-You 
saw him at Lachine ?” 

“No; they had just left when we arrived. I am glad 
to hear that, though inexperienced in regard to this end of 
the route, he yet understands the charge of the boats aqd 
the men. Has he a good set of clerks, apparently 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


55 


Tery resectable. We have robbed him of a couple; 
but he has old Michaud with him, who is a host in himself. 
And go, monsieur,” to M. Tremblay, “ you have, after so 
many years, be‘S again to visit La Marriale 

Ye^, I do g'o'Vedsit my respectable mother, who do 
still leevie; and I bring - Miss Monique froih St. Louizon 
to Quebec, and den I shall escort she and Miss Madeleine 
wid ca're back to her pS^-” The good gentleman made 
this explanation with an important air ' 

'‘ Quebec’ has done wonders for Miss Madeleine,”-said 
Mr. Malcolm, with an approving glance. “ How she has 
grown I” 

“ And yet she is but little changed, the dear child !” was 
Mrs. Malcolm’s comment. 

“ Your father left you under the especial care of our old 
friend' Lindsay, I remember he told me,” pursued Mr. Mal- 
colm. “How is he ? And how does the world go With 
him ? He is rich, I know ; -is he* happy 'as well ?” 

“Not very happy, I fear,” added Mrs. Malcolm. “We 
heard bf the death of Mrs. Lindsay about a year ago. She 
was a noble woman I What a loss I” 

“ Poor Lindsay ! And how does he bear such a stroke ?” 
asked Mr: Malcolm. “Is he cheerful?” 

“He i^ hot cheerful,” said Miss McGregor, to whom the 
question was addressed. “ It is hardly to be expected that 
he Should be. Mr. LindSay has other troubles, as you are 
probably aware, besides the loss of his wife. His son- — -” 

“ Not Malcolm, my namesake ! What of him ?” 

“ Then you have not heard that he left his father’s house 
some months ago, and has never returned ? Some say that 
he has never been heard of; but that cannot be, for his sis- 
ter, who dotes on him, is perfectly serene and cheerful.” 

“Left his father’s house I Oh, sad 1 sad I But why? 
What was the cause ?” 


56 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


There was a difficulty, I am told, between . father and 
son.’’ 

“ How shocking I And how strange that I should not 
have heard of it ! I have not seen Malcolm since he was 
quite a child, he happening to have been of late years 
away at school and college, and more recently, when I was 
in Quebec, he was on a visit to his sister, in; England-rrbut 
he seemed, in those early years, affectionate and dutiful. 
How can he so have changed 

“ He has not changed,” said Madeleine, in a decided tone, 
and for the first time looking around. “ Clara did not think 
him at all to blame.” 

“Young people naturally take each other’s part,” ob- 
served Mr. Malcolm. “ Can his family form no conjecture 
where he is gone ?” 

“ I think the general impression is that he went to Eng- 
land, to his sister, Lady Crayfield,” said Miss McGregor. 

“ Ah, yes — Louisa — she married a young officer who 
afterwards came to a title. I recollect. But if he were 
there. Lady Crayfield would have written to relieve his 
father and sister from their anxiety.” 

“ That depends,” said Miss McGregor, with a slight shrug. 
“ Others believe that he has gone to sea. He is said to 
have been fond of travelling — to have talked of visiting the 
Holy Land, Egypt, and so forth.” 

“ But for that he would need funds,” said Mr. Malcolm. 

“His dear mother left him something handsome,” said 
Madeleine. 

“ After all,” said Mrs. Malcolm, consolingly, “ I dare say 
it will be only for a time. He will see his folly and come 
back again, I’ll engage. People do take strange freaks 
sometimes, but the young generally get over their freaks 
more easily than those who are older.” 

M. Tremblay had his item of information to give. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 67 

“ My friend, St. Martin, he do tell me he tink de young 
man did go to New York or Boston, for to go be partners 
wid Mr. Jacob Astor, because he always like de State 
better as de king’s government.” 

'‘Oh, he will come back, and his father will forgive him, 
and all will be peace again, depend upon it. We will in- 
dulge no gloomy forebodings. And now, my dears, come 
with me. It is high time you should take off your bonnets 
and refresh yourselves, Frank, will you have the goodness 
to show M. Tremblay to his room— the same he occupied 
years ago when he was here ? Nothing changes with us, 
you see, monsieur.” 

“ Pardonnez-moi, but I see some ting dat do change,” 
said M. Tremblay, looking adniiringly' up and down the 
long apartment. “ Dis parlor change, par exemple ! When 
1 here before, dere one what you call partition dere — now 
you take her away, make all de room into two — 'So nice 
and snuggle 1 Better as one room here and one hoder room 
dere — now it all into two I” 

And M. Tremblay, with a courtly wave of the hand, fol- 
lowed young Ewing from the apartment. 


CHAPTER YII. 

With their customary hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. Mal- 
colm were soon planning an evening reunion of the newly- 
arrived visitors and such neighbors, civil and military, as 
their limited circle could boast. 

Having seen' all things in train for the evening’s enter- 
tainment, the mistress was at liberty to accompany her 


58 MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 

young friends to call upon the strangers, and. proffer her 
invitations. 

Mr. Ewing was profuse in his offers of service. 

“I have learned better than to salt yoiir ice-cream,” he 
said, '' or to pick off all the raisins from your fine, large 
bunches, as you may remember my doing Ayhen you placed 
the dessert in my charge, the. day ypu were expecting the 
British officers from Drummond’s Island to dine with, you.” 

The young gentleman’s obliging offer was deqlined, and 
the party set off for McKim’s, Mrs. Malcolm and, Ewing 
entertaining the sisters with many an amusing rqmin^cence 
of the expedients and the perplexities of , hospitality in a 
by-gone time. 

Arrived at .the small, low log building which did duty 
as a hotel; they found the httle parlor filled to ^pyprflpwing. 
The entire settlement seemed to have turned out— husbandp 
to learn the news— their wives and daughters, to see the 
fashions— children to pipk up food for amusement, and 
make themselves disagreeable generally. , 

,, The-youuger travellers were voluble, upon someAppic of 
interest. , . 

“ We have a scheme on foot for an excursion to the 
Arched Rock,” said Captain Lytle, approaching Miss 
McGregor. 

“ The excursion will have to be on foot as well as the 
scheme,” said Ewing, laughing, “ for, if I recollect right, 
there is, with the exceptipn -of tho cart^ belonging to the 
Company, but one vehicle on the island — M. Dubois’s old 
rattling cal eche.” 

“ Oh, we don’t care for vehicles, 1 exclaimed two or three 
of the most enterprising. ^ We had rather walk. It is .but 
two miles — hardly that.” 

. : “And the weather is delightfully cool this afternoon,” 
said another. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


59 


, “ And'if the youn^ ladies get tired,” suggested a gallant 

I officer, “ we can bring them home lady-chair, as the chil- 
! dren call it. I think we outnumber them two to one.” 

I '‘Or ’poose-back, like the squaws,” put in a young fron- 
tier’sciori, who had evidently had the range of the barracks, 
and whom his mother, for onee, was endeavoring to jerk 
and twitch into propriety. 

Mrs. Malcolm’ls invitation having been accepted, it was 
voted* to Set off on their walk at onOe, that the young 
people might be back in time to rest and refresh themselves 
for the* evening party. 

‘^”Seems to me you look rather pensive,” whispered Miss 
Latimer to her friend as she passed her on her way to her 
apartment. 

“Do If”' said Madeleine, brightening up; “I did not 
mean to.” 

“And if you ‘ did, dear child, you need not look so 
startled about it. I am not going to se old you:” 

“It’s nothing;” said Mildeleine; “it wil! go off in a 
miiiute or two.” ^ 

“ And so shall we,” said Grace, gaily, for she was in the 
happiest of huihorS; YOd see I must have my poor little 
pun as well as the young gentlemen. Come; cheer up, 
there’s a darling — and Mr. Ewing shall walk with you, 
and tell you stories about the Indians.” 

“ Indians I I have no wish to bear about them. I some- 
times wish I could never diear the name again!’’ 

, She was not aware, until she caught the look her sister 
threw at her, that she had spoken »so as to- be overheard. 
Miss Latimer also observed the glance — it was one that 
she felt she should not soon forget. 

Miss McGregor had consummate powers of self-control. 
She was able, the next instant, to be replying graciously, 
and even more gaily than was her wont, to Captain Lytle 


60 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


and a friend whom he had found doing penance in his 
second summer at this remote post. 

Lieutenant Stafford was in high luck, for he had the 
opportunity granted him, in some unaccountable way^ of 
attending upon the younger sister without the watchful 
interposition of the elder. He would have been mortified 
could he have fathomed Miss McGregor’s mental remark, — 

“ Madeleine has a panoply that will keep her safe, let her 
be besieged as she may. She is in love with young Lind- 
say — of that there is not a doubt. Well, my father will 
be pleased ; I have heard him express a wish that they 
might become attached and marry. I remember once, 
when she was. a little girl, his telling her that he had 
promised her to Malcolm.” 

Misa Latimer could hardly credit the evidence of her 
senses when, as M. Tremblay was placing himself by Made- 
leine’s side with a gallant bow, she heard the words of " 
Miss McGregor, in French, — 

“No occasion, monsieur; my sister is- a sufficient safe- 
guard to herself. We need not trespass on your kindness 
this afternoon.” 

Whereupon the good gentleman, after pondering a 
moment to make sure that he understood, delightedly 
withdrew, to smoke his afternoon’s pipe and lose his 
three-and-twentieth game of euchre to Captain Lovel. 

The route of the pedestrians lay for a little distance 
along the broad, gravelly beach, upon which were scattered 
two or three wigwams of Chippewa Indians—small, dirty, 
and uninviting. The odors of smoke and fish which met 
their senses, the yelping of two or three ugly curs at the 
approach of strangers, and finally the outpouring of the 
younger members of the families in a toilet that would 
have presented no obstacle to an immediate plunge into 
the waters of the lake, had such been their pleasure, all 


61 


MARK LOOANy THE BOURGEOIS, 

concurred to overcome the, wish for a nearer view, which 
Miss Latimer, among others, had at first expressed. 

Miss McGregor, with a ipok of annojance she could mot 
repress, turned away from the scene, and commented with 
animation to Captain Lytle and his friend Captain Dalton 
upon the steepness of the ascent to the fort, its pom- 
manding situation — anything, in short, which. would show 
her attention fixed in an opposite direction frpm the lodges. 

Suddenly an Indian, not too sober, who had been loung- 
ing in the shade of 4he nearest lodge and staring at the 
party, sprang to his feet, and, rushing forward, thrust his 
face in close .proximity to .that of Miss McGregor, uttering 
an affectionate, delighted exclamation of, — 

“ Hoh 1 Bon-jour, bon-jour !’’ at thp same time seizing her , 
hand to give emphasis to the salutation. 

There was a varying expression on thp countenance of 
the young lady as she returned his ‘f Bon-jour IV yet she 
added, calmly, as if for the benefit, of her companions, rather 
than of the person addressed, -T- 

“ But you do not speak to my sistpr;^^ and with a mo- 
tion she indicated Madeleine, who was close at hand. 

The Chippewa must have been ^ habitual hanger-on 
of the white settlements, as hjs immediate comprehension 
of her. words testified. .His reply was a derisive, laugh, 
and the emphatic exclamation, as he looked fixedly at the 
younggirl,— 

Shee-man ? Ke-^en-don / Chee-mo-ko-moru”’*' 

“What is that he says,?/’ asked Miss Latimer of her 
companion. 

Mr. Ewing, in a low tone,, interpreted the words of the 
Indian. u 

‘f Of course Madeleine is an American,” e^^e said-. : V But 

♦Your sister? Not by any means. She is an American. 

^ .. ^ ... . 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


why does he say she is not Miss McGregor^s sister ? Does 
he know them?” 

“ Probably he never saw them before,” was the reply. 

Miss Latimer’s inward comment was,— 

“ All this looks very mysterious. I shall begin to believe 
that I have, indeed, got into the land’of romance !” 

She, however, made no further remark ot inquiry, as, 
aided by the support of Mr. Ewing’ls'arm, she climbed the 
steep, white, gravelly road which led up' past the fort, 
and then away, by a blind and tangled path, towards their 
point of destination. 

A young married lady from the fort had undertaken to 
chaperone the party, albeit such a formality was mere fre- 
quently dispensed with than Insisted ori; in the free-and- 
easy conventionalities of the West. The lady in question 
had brought with her a lively, talkative little- miss, her 
visitor, the daughter of an officer now at Greeii Bay. Miss 
Bond was but about thirteen or fourteen years of agej and, 
as there were not many to dispute the prize with him, she 
fell to the share of Lieutenant Smithett ^or the occasion. 
Binding that he had het society all to hiniself, he soon put 
the circumstance to profit. 

The little miss, bent upon being agreeable, seeing that 
a beau Was allotted exclusively to her, opened with, — 

‘^Did you have a pleasant trip up the Lakes?” To which 
the young gentleman replied, — 

“ Well, BO — I can^t say that I had. To tell the truth, 
the officers who were of the party didn’t take any pains to 
make it agreeable. They seem to think a great deal of 
themselves and very little of other people.- One can-’t get 
along very comfortably, you know, where that’s the case.” 

“ Oh, -my gracious, no I I suppose it was just like my 
mamma and Mrs. Bennett, in the garrison. One thinks 
she must have this, and the other thinks she has a right 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


63 


to have that, and then if they can’t have just the same, one 
gets mad and gives it to the quartermaster, and maybe 
gives a party, and invites all the garrison except him and 
this other lady. And so they keep on till the inspector- 
general comes, or some other great gun that has to be 
invited all round, and then they make ^it up because they 
waut to borrow each other’s-, things. There’s queer doings 
in garrison, sometimes, you know.” ' 

“ No, I can’t say I do know ; for, to tell the truth, I’ve 
never lived in a gqrrison. You, of course, who have lived 
in one, must know all about it.” 

Oh, yes, I’ve, beep brought up in one all my life.” 

“ Well, then,; as you have had ^o much experience, I 
should like to ask your advice upon one or two points,” 

The young lady held up her head at this, and looked as 
tall and as wise as possible. 

“Now, for instance,” pursued the, lieutenant, “suppose 
I had just arrived at my post— what js the first thing I 
would have to do ?” 

“That depends upon where you came from. If you 
came from the Sault, ordown the Fox River with a parcel 
of; Indians for guides, I guess the first thing , you had 
better do would be,, to use your fine-tooth comb,” said the 
young lady, with,; admirable frankness, “ But, wherever 
you happen to come from, you had better fix yourself and 
spruce up a little— it’s the way, they all do.” 

“Oh, that of course. I always attend to my Toilet 
the first thing. But if I came- there a stranger, I should 
want some place to go to. Is there any such thing as a 
hotel in the fort ?” 

“A hotel in a garrison? What a funny idea!” cried 
Miss, Bond, laughing merrily. 

“ What in the world am I to do, then ?” asked the young 
man, with a blank look. “ Where am I to go ?” 


64 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


“ Why, you are to go to the quartermaster, to be sure, 
and ask him to assign you quarters, and if he has a room, 
he will give you one.’’ 

“ And if he has not ?” 

“ Then he will put you in half a one, along with 
somebody else ; maybe with some old bachelor that’s 
got the asthma ; somebody that nobody else cares to 
room with. But what are yon? a first, or a second, or 
only a brevet ?” 

“ I am a second lieutenant now, but I expect to be a 
first very soon.” 

“Oh, well, if that’s all, you can’t turn anybody else 
out and take their quarters — you will have to put up 
with just what you can get. And you won’t find the 
quartermaster any too accommodating. Mamma says 
it’s the nature of a quartermaster to be contrary and dis- 
obliging— that’s what they are rhade for.” 

“Are the quarters furnished? Shall I be likely to be 
comfortably fixed ?” 

“ There will be a pine table that the soldiers have made, 
and maybe a stool or two, and perhaps the who occu- 
'pied it before you, may have left his bowl and pitcher^ — 
they don’t geherally take them with them when they move 
a\vmy. But you must not be surprised to find them cracked 
and the handle gone. The quartermaster will make you 
pay full price for them, though,” said the mischievous little 
thing, who was not wanting in cleverness, and could read 
her companion thoroughly. 

“ Dear me ! This is certainly not an agreeable prospect,” 
said Mr. Smithett, wiping from his brow with his perfumed 
pocket-handkerchief the drops that exercise and vexation 
had called forth. “ I must say that I had no idea that 
entering 4he- army involved such sacrifices. If, in addition 
to this, one should happen to lose a leg or an arm, or per- 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 65 

haps be killed I I really think it is asking too much of 
one 1” 

“ Oh, if you lose a leg or an arm, you will get a pension, 
you kuow.” 

“ A pension — how- much V* 

“ Oh, a good deal — enough to buy all your tobacco. I 
know an old lame captain who gets all that he chews, and 
as many as eight or ten pipes a month besides, with his 
pension-money.” 

“ I never chew nor smoke pipes myself,” said the young 
man; and for a considerable time he walked, on in sulky 
silence. 

It was well the party had an experienced person like 
Mr. Ewing for their guide, the Arched Rock being a spot 
not easy to find, as many an unsuccessful explorer of that 
day could testify. They came upon it at last, however, and 
a simultaneous exclamation of wonder and delight burst 
fy/)m the company as it met their view. 

A vast chasm, formed by some convulsion of nature, 
opened from the summit of an elevated cliff, quite down to 
the waters below — its outer verge spanned by a natural 
bridge, from the joints and crevices of which grew tufts of 
evergreens and other shrubbery, giving it the -appearance 
of a triumphal arch. From the sides of the hollow cleft 
or tunnel, trees, tall and spreading, reared themselves, yet 
not in such profusion as to shut out a lovely view of the 
lake lying far below, calm, clear, and beautiful, as if it 
were a picture thus wondrously framed. As the beholders 
gazed, a birch canoe, light and graceful, paddled by a 
couple of natives, shot like a bird across the bright, spark- 
ling opening, and was quickly lost to view. 

“ Oh, how beautiful I how grand! how wonderful! Has 
it been here ever since the deluge, do you think ?” asked 
one. 

6 * 


66 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“A good while, at any rate, to judge fi^om the size of 
the trees growing far down within the gorge, obsei^ved 
another. 

“Could it have been made by an earthquake?’’ “Do 
they have earthquakes here?” “What do the Indians 
say about it?” Such were some of the questions addressed 
to Ewing, as the person whose experience best entitled his 
opinion to consideration. Ewing, however, could only tell 
them he had never heard any tradition as to its origin. 

“ Could any one walk across it?” asked an adventurous 
young lady. 

“I have done such a foolhardy act myself, in my boy- 
hood,” said the young secretary; “ but I fancy no one 
would venture to attempt it now, for the fetones are begin- 
ning to crumble; If you look below, you will See here and 
there a mass that has evidently dropped from the arch.” 

“ I suppose there are some interesting histories and 
legends attached to th& wonderful feat of Nature, if we 
may so characterize it;” remarked the Cemmissioner. 

Mr. Ewing seemed not to have anything of 'the kind 
ready at his service. 

“ It is the business of a traveller to invent wonderful 
legends,” said Miss Latimer. “ Suppose VA^e each exercise 
our talents in that way, to beguile tl>e remaining ho’uts of 
our trip, and then compare notes. If anybody likes my 
production, I will give him leave to put it in his journal 
for veritable history.” 

The Commissioner did not look quite pleased : he was 
not sure whether Miss Latimer meant to be satirical, or 
only gay and amusing. 

The scattered groups soon found shady spots where they 
could rest and luxuriate in the contemplation of the mag- 
nificent panorama spread out before them of lake, and 
headland, and distant islet. The refreshing breeze that 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


67 


began to rise over the cliff, brought the balsamic fragrance 
of the spruce and fir, and the gentle fragrance of the scat- 
tered wild-flowers, to add yet another charm to their 
enjoyment. 

Music was pronounced the only element wanting to fill 
the measure of actual -beatitude, apd the ladies were not 
inexorable to the petitions of their cavaliers. Many sweet 
songs were sung. The Miss McGregors delighted the 
company with a spirited little French duet, the words of 
which Mr. Ewing promised to write down for Miss Latimer. 

‘‘ I wonder,’’ whispered the Commissioner to the young 
secretary, if they would sing us something in Indian ? I 
should like amazingly to get the words of an aboriginal 
song ; but the, elder sister took me up in such a, fiery man- 
ner the other day, that I don’t quite like to ask a favor of 
her.” And he glanced hesitatingly at the young lady, 
through his gold spectacles. 

“ There . is very little melody in the Indian music,”, said 
Mr. Ewing. “ At the Bay you will doubtless have abun- 
dant opportunities, of hearing and judging for yourself. 
Miss McGregor, I am convinced, would prefer not to sing 
one of the songs of her people at present.” : 

Mr. Smithetti for his part, did not .think much of the 
music. “ It was not to be expected,”, as he remarked in a 
whisper to Miss Bond, “ that it should make much impres- 
sion on a person who had heard Phillips and Mrs. French, 
and who had attended the Opera at the Park Theatre and 
the Philharmonics, and whose sister, moreover, had taken 
lessons of Taylor at twenty-five dollars a quarter I” 


68 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER yilL 

In the course of the evening Mr. Malcolm learned a few 
further particulars of the domestic troubles of his friend 
Lindsay. Among the passengers who had come in the 
Uncle Sam he found an old acquaintance from Quebec, a 
M. Rivard, who, as it proved, was a neighbor, living on 
rather intimate' terms with the Lindsay family. 

This gentleman was not long in furnishing a supplement 
to the account given by Miss McGregor and M. Tremblay. 

“Our good friend, as you are perhaps aware,” said M. 
Rivard, “ has grown a little ambitious as riches and pros- 
perity have increased.” 

“ It is several years,” replied Mr. Malcolm, “ since I 
visited Quebec, and still longer since Lindsay was at the 
West. When I last saw him I detected a slight change 
from the manners of his earlier life — something of the 
grand seigneur, if I may so call it.” 

“ Yes, and his ambition has been especially for his chil- 
dren. Having married his eldest daughter in England to 
a man of high connection, and who by the lapse of several 
lives has come to a title, he, perhaps not unnaturally, formed 
great expectations for the other two. I think it was about 
two years ago that our new Governor-General came out, 
and with him came, as his aide, an officer of rank, the 
father of three or four pretty and accomplished daughters. 
Lindsay, as might be expected, promoted an intimacy be- 
tween his young people and Colonel Darner’s family, and 
the result of their being thus thrown together seems to 
have been, that one of the young ladies fell violently in 
love with yoUr namesake, Malcolm — as fine a young fellow 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


69 


as you will meet with. The young lady certainly had 
every excuse, as far as that goes.’^ 

“And was the penchant mutual?” 

“His father assumed that it was, and did not conceal 
his satisfaction at the prospect of the match. It is gen- 
erally understood that the matter was talked of between 
the parents. Judge, then, of our friend’s chagrin and dis- 
appointment when his son declared himself utterly and 
unchangeably averse to a marriage with Miss Darner — 
asserted that be had never paid attention to- one sister 
more than to the others — never bad the slightest preference 
for either — admired them all, but neither could nor would 
think of one of them for a wife. Lindsay was in a taking, 
you may be sure, for he does not understand being opposed 
in what he sets his heart on.” 

“ And what did the poor mother say ?” 

“She was very much out of health at the time, and I 
fancy they kept the matter from her as much as possible. 
At length she died, and, as nearly as I can learn, the young 
man was left for some months undisturbed. Then came a 
new impulse to the affair. The Governor, it is said, con- 
gratulated our friend one day, and expressed his content- 
ment with the news, which, it seems, Colonel Darner, in 
the- fulness of his heart, had imparted to him. As a token 
of his interest in the matter, he offered young Lindsay a 
very eligible Government appointment by way of enabling 
him to set out in bis married life in a style to suit both 
fathers. The young lady being some two or three years older 
than her chosen, there was no danger of delay on her part.” 

“All that is too much in the old-country style of doing 
business to suit my views,” said Mr. Malcolm ; “ but go on. ” 
“Things happen in the bosoms of families which are 
supposed to be profound secrets, yet which do, somehow, 
leak out,” said M. Rivard. 


70 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

“ It was so with the Lindsays. Servants told of high 
words in the library — the father charging the son with 
disobedience and want of duty, threatening to disinherit 
him, finally ordering him to leave the house *, the son 
maintaining his right to choose for himself, complaining 
of injustice and tyranny, and ending by taking his father 
at his word. He left, nobody, it is said, unless it might 
be his sister, knowing whither he went.^^ 

“And they have never heard from him 

“Friends of the family think his sister must receive 
letters. Attached as they were to each other, she could 
not be cheerful if she were in suspense about him.” 

“ M. Tremblay tells me that some suspect him of having 
gone to New York or Boston and entered into business, 
under an assumed name, of course.^?; 

“ I am much more inclined to think he proceeded to St. 
Louis,” said M. Rivard, and has gone far away into the 
Indian country, with an expedition of hunters and trap- 
pers. It would just suit his humor. He is very athletic, 
spirited, and fond of adventure. He will stay away 
awhile, and then his father will come to his senses and 
send for him home again. That will be the way of it.” 

Miss McGregor was more than usually brilliant and 
beautiful this evening. There was a feeling of triumph 
as she detected in the manner of Captain Lytle a shade of 
disquietude when his friend Dalton hung round her and 
showed an obvious solicitude to please her. They were 
United States officers ; if both were jealous and uncom- 
fortable, so much the better. She Joved the Big Knives 
no better than did the most of her mother’s people. 

That he was beginning to be jealous Captain Lytle was 
himself conscious. He did what few men do — he reasoned 
upon the matter. 

“ It is perhaps time to ask myself what I intend to do,” 


MARK LOGAK, THE BOURGEOIS. 


n 


he said. “ Dalton is putting in pretty strong. It was not 
for that, by-the-by, that I took such pains to show her to 
him. It is rather an unfriendly trick — only, perhaps, he 
did not suspect I had any claims. And have I? Ah, 
that’s the question! I certainly do think her splendid — 
oh, most charming!” Here he glanced past the two or 
three intervening guests, and encountered those brilliant 
eyes, which were instantly directed another way. I 
think she likes me — that if I make up my mind to be in 
earnest, I can win her without too much difficulty; and 
she is a woman whom any man might be proud to win. 
But then— ^biit then— rafter all, what is the violent hurry 
about deciding the question ? I have known her little 
more than a week, and there is no reason why I should 
be precipitate. However, as Dalton seems rather disposed 
to trifle with her, I had better go and put a stop to his 
nonsense".” 

Which the gallant captain did, monopolizing Miss 
McGregor so completely that his friend was compelled to 
leave the field and seek entertainment elsewhere. 

The little steamer was not ready by the time breakfast 
was over next morning, as Captain Blunt had notified his 
passengers she would be. There would be plenty of time, 
Mr. Malcolm assured his young guests, for a visit to the 
Mission House before they would be summoned on board. 
The young ladies accordingly put on their hats and joined 
Mrs. Malcolm, who looked much pleased at seeing Miss 
McGregor of the party. 

“ I am glad you are going with us, my dear,” she said. 
‘‘ It is gratifying when those of your church manifest an 
interest in our Protestant efforts in behalf of the Indian 
and half-breed children.” 

“ I do not propose going to the school,” said Miss 
McGregor, gently. “ I shall call for a short visit on old 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


*72 

Madame Dubois, my mother’s relative, and I will join 
■you on your return.” 

They walked along, accompanied by Ewing, who was 
an old acquaintance of the ladies at the Mission. He was 
in advance, with the elder sister ; and as the two were soon 
engaged in an animated conversation, Mrs. Malcolm, lin- 
gering a little in the rear with the younger, remarked, — 
Your sister does not relax, I perceive, on any occasion, 
from the strictness of her religious excljusiveness. How 
do you and she get on together in that regard ?” 

“ Only by making it a point never to discuss the sub- 
ject,” said Madeleine, with a sigh. “The difference ip 
our belief seems to be gradually widening the breach which, 
for some reason I cannot understand, separates us. Oh, 
if Monica would only love me I I have always loved and 
admired her so much I Except in two particulars, I try 
to accommodate my views and opinions to hers. Having 
been trained by my father in his own religious faith, and 
having become still more confirmed in it during my stay 
in Quebec, I cannot harmonize with her upon points which 
she deems essential to salvation ; neither can I take the 
same exalted views she does of the race from which we 
spring. I pity the Indians with all my, heart, but I am 
not proud of them. I look upon them as they are — Monica 
only sees them in the past, when they were, as she never 
forgets, the sovereigns of all this beautiful Jand; and she 
glories, or at least she professes to glory, in her affinity 
with them, and in her descent from a race of princes and 
heroes.” 

“ Is that feeling still so strong with her? I should have 
supposed that .intercourse with the world to which her 
father belongs would have modified it in some degree, as 
well as softened somewhat her unkindly feelings towards 
the Americans.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


73 


“She has not been in the right world for that,” said 
Madeleine. “ Our father, being a native Scotsman, is onlv 
the more reprehensible with her from having become an 
American by naturalization. Then the people, you re- 
member, by whom we are surrounded, are almost all of 
foreign birth, or else of aboriginal connections. Oh 1 
Monica loves the British. She regards them as the un- 
varying, beneficent friends of the native tribes. I think her 
present visit, so far from softening, has added strength to 
her inveterate feeling against our Government. In Canada 
she has been accustomed to hear these questions discussed, 
and a contrast drawn between the policy of the British 
Government and that of the United States towards the 
Indians — and I suppose,” said Madeleine, with a sigh, “ our 
American people do not shine in the comparison.” 

“ Perhaps her mother— I beg pardon — your mother fos- 
tered this feeling— this love of her people.” 

“ Not in me. I do not recollect that she ever taught me 
to Set a value on my Indian^ blood. Perhaps she saw that 
I was not as hopeful a pupil as Monica, for the feeling of 
distaste in mC was just as strong from my childhood as it 
is^ now. Certain it is, that to my sister and not to me 
were directed all her instructions as to the dignity and 
grandeur of their race. She was the depositary of all the 
traditions of their early greatness ; and it was she, and not 
I, who was taught to feel that the blood of the whites was 
ennbbled in mingling* with that' of the native chiefs.” 

“ Yo nr 'm ether Was a Christian, if I remember right?” 
said Mrs. Malcolm. 

“Yes, she was a devout Catholic— and, strange as it 
may seem, my father permitted her to bring up my sister 
in her own religion, while he would not allow one of their 
distinctive principles to be taught to me. He has never 
been what is generally called a religious man himself; yet 

7 


74 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


he used to take me on his knee and hear me my Catechism 
when I was a very little child— and if I had a Catholic 
picture or a little book given me by the priest, or one of 
the French ladies who used to come to our house, and who 
would sometimes take this method of teaching me quietly 
what I was not allowed to learn openly, papa would take 
it from me, and lock it up in his desk, telling me that that 
was not my religion.” 

‘‘And did your mother never attempt to instruct you at 
all?” 

“ Yery rarely. She was so conscientiously attached to 
her own church, a,nd so fully convinced that out of its 
bosom there was no hope of salvation, that she did, now 
and then, give me a gentle hint in accordance with its 
teachings; but this would always displease my father if 
it came to his knowledge, and he would express himself so 
strongly, that at length she discontinued it altogether.” 

“Your mother was a Sioux, was she not?” 

“ No — a Winnebago, or rather a Metive* — her father 
was a chief of that tribe — her mother was a Spanish child,- 
stolen in her infancy from a settlement not far distant from 
St. Louis. When, years afterwards, her family ti’aced her, 
and would have persuaded her to return to them, she re- 
fusedj and persisted in remaining as the wife of the chief, 
our grandfather. A niece of hers, that is, a cousin of our 
mother’s, a very accomplished lady, was the Superior of a 
convent in St. Louis, and it was to her that Monica was 
sent for her education. My father would never consent 
that I should go.” 

“ I remember your telling me on your former visit that 
the wife of one of the clerks had been your daily gover- 
ness,” said Mrs. Malcolm. 


* A half-breed. The expression applies to any dogreo of mixture. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


75 


“Yes — she was an excellent teacher — she had been 
reared to that vocation. When she died, I had to be sent 
to Quebec.’’ 

“ Did your mother speak English 

“A very little. To my father and me she spoke in 
French. She preferred it, I suppose, because it was the 
language of her priests and most of her Catholic friends^ 
With Monica she always talked in Winnebago, and occa- 
sionally, when she wished to say anything to my father 
which I was not to understand, she would address him in 
Chippewa, which he understood well, though he had never 
learned her own language. There was another thing : 
my mother would go, from time, to time, to visit her rela- 
tives upon the Upper Mississippi, or at the Four Lakes, 
and upon these occasions she always took Monica with 
her, while I was invariably left with my father. I never 
saw one of my Winnebago connections, except at our own 
house when they came to visit my mother.” 

“ You say, my dear,” said Mrs. Malcolm, tenderly, “that 
you cannot undei’stand what it is that separates you and 
your sister. Now, it is quite evident to me that ;the 
manner in which you two have been reared could not do 
otherwise than create a division of interests between you. 
You' were trained to have hardly a feeling in common. As 
things were, Monica would naturally cling to, her mother, 
with all whose principles and predilections she was per- 
mitted to sympathize. You, on the contrary, could not 
but feel yourself, and be regarded by your mother, as your 
father’s child, rather than her own. Was not that the 
case ?” 

“ I think it was,” said Madeleine. “It would be a fool- 
ish affectation in me to deny that I was far dearer to, my 
father’s heart than my sister was ; and it, used to puzzle 
me, when a child, why it should be so. Monica was always 


76 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


very obedient and dutiful — mamma taught her to be 
so — it seemed to be the strongest principle she incul- 
cated. ‘ Do this, because your father wishes it.’ ‘ Don’t 
do that, for it will displease your father.’ Obedience, how- 
ever, is not love ; and it must have been because I was 
more demonstrative in my affection that my father always 
treated me with what might have looked like a partial 
tenderness.” 

“And were you equally demonstrative with your 
mother?” 

“I think I was, when I was with her, for I was very 
fond of her, though I could always see that Monica was 
her favorite. I must own, however, that I always pre- 
ferred being with my father. When he was not occupied 
with his business, he passed the most of his time in his 
office or library, which was in one wing of his house, and 
after I had finished my lessons I always went there to 
find him. My mother lived in the other wing, and we sel- 
dom all met together, except at our meals. At. evening, 
when my father would have us with him in the parlor, to 
chat and amuse him, Monica would slip away early to my 
mother’s part of the house. Sometimes I would go with 
her, but generally it was my choice to stay with papa.” 

“ Did your mother adopt the costume of the whites along 
with their mode of life ?” 

“ Not at all. She always wore a match-ee-coat-ee of 
blue cloth, very prettily ornamented with bright-colored 
ribbons. 1 remember, crying more than once, when I was 
a child, because I could not have one like it. Her hair, 
which was very long and abundant, and had a little wave 
in it like Monica’s, was gathered into a mass on her neck 
behind, and wound round and round with beads, generally 
purple and white. In the morning she would wear a shirt 
of pretty French chintz ; but if there was to be company. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


11 


and she was to come into the parlor of an evening, she 
always put on a shirt of black or purple silk, trimmed with 
several rows of small silver brooches. The blanket, or, as 
the French say, the couverte, she used to wear then, was 
such as you have doubtless seen — fine blue broadcloth, 
with a dozen or more rows of narrow, bright-colored rib- 
bons, cut into points and lapped over one another, and 
sewed, oh, so neatly I Mamma was an exquisite needle- 
woman. I used to think, when she was dressed for com-1 
pany, with her leggings and her little moccasins ;all em- 
broidered so handsomely with porcupine-quills, that there 
never could be a more splendid person.” 

“ You speak of your father and mother occupying dif- 
ferent portions of the house — was that their ordinary 
manner of life 

“ From my earliest recollection it was so. I never saw 
my father in my mother’s apartments, unless when she, or 
one of us, was indisposed, which was very rarely. At such 
times he would come and sit, and offer, her little attentions 
or inquiries, such as a friend or a physician might have 
done — nothing further” 

“Was there tenderness and affection in their manner 
towards each other ?” asked Mrs. Malcolm. 

“ Nothing of the kind. Politeness always, for my father, 
you know, is a very well-bred man ; but his politeness 
was, as it now seems to me, cold and ceremonious. Some- 
times I could see, an expression on mamma’s face, when 
she looked towards him, as if the ice— for I can call it by 
no other name — were melting away ; but if be observed it, 
it would never bring any evidence of a corresponding feel- 
ing on his. part. There would be a great many days when 
he and I would not see my mother at all, for she would 
have moods of not coming where my father was — and when 
that was the case she did not appear to care for seeing me 

7 * 


IS 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


either. Now that I have seen how other families live — 
particularly since I have known yours and the dear Lind- 
says — I look back with wonder at our strange, unnatural 
mode of life. What you have said, dear Mrs. Malcolm, 
partly explains many things that were formerly incompje- 
hensible to me, but not all. Poor mamma 1” said the young 
girl, wiping away the tears as she spoke, she is gone 
where she will have no more sorrows! I think she - must 
have grieved not to take leave of me, for I believe she 
really loved me. Her ways were very tender to me at 
times, though never, never as my father’s were.” 

Miss McGregor and Mr. Ewing had been so absorbed 
in their dialogue, which they carried on in that peculiarly 
soft, musical dialect which distinguishes the OtUwa branch 
of “the Three Fires”* from its kindred tongues, that they 
had taken no heed of the conversation of the other mem- 
bers of their party. Now, however, that they had ar- 
rived at the dwelling of Madame Dubois, close under the 
droppings of the little Catholic sanctuary, Miss McGregor 
bade her companions good-morning, and left them to pro- 
ceed together on their visit to the Mission House. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Arrived at the humble abode of her relative. Miss 
McGregor’s gentle tap was answered by the Canadian 
welcome,— 

“ Open the door I” 

The French inhabitants of the frontier avoid, with super- 
stitious caution, the customary invitation “ ComA in,” 


Chippewa, Ottawa, Pottowattamie. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 79 

which they regard as foreboding evil, especially if it 
happen to be given at night. They say that “ the demon’^ 
is prone to make his beguiling visits, and chiefly in the 
hours of darkness — therefore, any one who bids him enter 
runs the risk of his establishing his quarters so that he 
cannot be ousted. 

“Ah I Espauola, or shall I rather say Mau--nee-qua, the 
traveller ? At last you are come was the salutation 
which the young lady received, as, in obedience to the 
mandate, she raised the latch and entered. 

She was met by a venerable old lady, whose dark though 
still handsome face and aboriginal attire bespoke her de- 
scent, if not her full native afiinity. 

“Oh, call me Espanola, that sweet, beloved name of 
my happiest days!” exclaimed the young lady, returning 
the embrace of her relative with more effusion than she 
was wont to exhibit. “And yet the other name may not 
be less appropriate, for I am, as you doubtless guess, re- 
turning from a journey — a long journey. 

“ Yes, I am aware that you arrived at the island yes- 
terday morning — that you afterwards made an excursion 
with a gay young party to the Arched Rock. The evening, 
too, was spent in the society of the merry and thoughtless ! 
Have you learned, my child, to find your happiness in 
pleasures like these ? Is Espanola so changed that the 
ties of kindred and the claims of duty are losing their hold 
upon her ?” 

The look of the old lady was sad and reproachful. 

“ No, ma tante,” said Miss McGregor, “ Espanola is not 
changed. It was in the fulfilment of claims both of kin- 
dred and duty that tJie time was passed, which should 
otherwise have been devoted to her mother’s friend.” 

Madame Dubois looked inquiringly. 

“ Those who told you of my arrival, did they not also. 


80 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


tell you by whom I was accompanied asked the young 
lady. “ Perhaps it surprises you to learn that my sister 
was confided to my charge — that I was the person selected 
by my father to go with good, foolish M. Tremblay to 
Quebec, to bring his cherished one back to him ! Listen — 
he did still more. He said, and never before had he spoken 
to me with so much friendly confidence, ‘ Monica, guard 
her as you would the apple of your eye. Keep her, as far 
as in you lies, from all bodily danger, but do not forget 
that there is a greater peril still. Madeleine is young and 
beautiful — in the years that she has been away from her 
home she may have become thoughtless. Her attractions 
will bring around her a host of admirers ; it is for you to 
keep such at a distance. Watch over her — do not trust 
her out of your sight — remember how desolate would be 
your father’s heart should his darling, make an evil choice 
and shipwreck her happiness for life I Will you promise 
me to observe. all this?’ And I did promise — I accepted 
the charge, though my heart was bursting, as I heard no 
word of counsel for myself — no hint of solicitude lest I 
should choose unwisely — no warning that disappointment 
to me would throw a cloud over his future.” 

Miss McGregor paused for a moment, unable to control 
her emotion. Her relative drew her tenderly to her bosom. 

“ My child, my Espauola, should you not regard this 
omission rather as a proof of your father’s confidence and 
respect? Would he not naturally say, ‘Monica needs no 
caution — she has already shown that at the suggestion of 
duty she can tear forth the affections that are rooted in 
her very heart-strings’?” 

“ Pardon me, ma tante, if I do not yield my convictions. 
What is respect from a father to a child ? If I do well, he 
muat respect me — but why am I not entitled to a share of 
his affection ? It has been ever So. Madeleine is the pride 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


81 


and delight of his heart; I am tolerated — I am provided 
for — I meet with no actual unkindness, but I win no love. 
I am not blind, ma tante — I cannot be unaware of the 
position I occupy. I look in vain for one such glance 
as rests on that cherished one at every turn. Like my 
mother, my beloved, blessed mother, I am cut off — thrust 
out- 

The agitation of the young lady, so unlike her ordinary, 
quiet demeanor, quite got the mastery of her, until, after a 
short interval, the soothing accents of her venerable rela- 
tive helped her to subdue the outburst. 

“My child,” she said, “offer all your sufferings and 
tribulations to God. They shall work for your eternal 
good— they shall bring you a great reward. Not one of 
them shall be lost. Do not lay up hard thoughts against 
your father. We cannot hope for love from all alike. 
You had a superabundant share of your mother’s affection 
— remember that, and that your little sister had only your 
father to love and bomfort her. Be just, Monica. Pray 
to God, above all things, to give you a resigned spirit. 
Never forget that with our people to /eeZ injured is to 
meditate redress. Had ybu the French rather than the 
Spanish mingled with the blood of our tribe, your tempta- 
tions and sufferings would be less. Remember that you are 
descended from a susceptible and passionate stock-still, 
if you earnestly strive, you may, like your exemplary 
mother, learn self-conquest. Keep your religious duties 
uppermost in your mind, my dear child. ■ Fasting and 
vigils will help you more in your path to heaven than the 
society of the gay worldlings who now cluster around you. 
Is it not so, my Espanola?” 

The young lady remained for a few minutes with down- 
cast eyes, as if questioning or holding an argument with 
herself. Madame Dubois held her clasped, occasionaUy 


82 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


resting her disengaged hand upon the shoulder of her 
cousin’s child. Monica could not escape her searching 
glance. 

“ you think I am jealous of my sister, ma tante,” she 
said, at length, raising her eyes, “ and that I may be led to 
act unkindly towards her. I assure you that I have ful- 
filled my father’s injunctions to the letter. I have watched 
over her with the most scrupulous care. I have observed, 
particularly, his interdiction of the society of the young- 
officers among whom she might be thrown, and whose at- 
tentions I know would be displeasing to him. My father 
shall have nothing to complain of. I have never relaxed 
my vigilance — never suffered my sister a moment out of 
my sight, except when with some esteemed female friend, 
like Mrs. Malcolm, for instance.” 

Then, if you take her back to her father heart-free ” 

“ Nay, I do not say that, ma tante* How can I answer 
for what may have taken place before my arrival in Que- 
bec ? For all; that has occurred since I was invested with 
the guardianship,:! am ready to answer. ”• 

And, to change the current of> conversation, Miss Mc- 
Gregor began relating to her relative all the particulars 
she had been able to gather of the history and welfare of 
the large circle of old French friends in Montreal, the birth- 
place of the ci-devant Monsieur Dubois. 

When it was at length, time -for.Mopica to think of return- 
ing to Mrs* Malcolm’s abode, her relative; could not refrain 
from yet another admonitory lesson. , 

“Adieu, my Espanola— we shall meet no, more on this 
side the grave. Let my counsels sink deep into your heart. 
Do not rebel against the allotments of Gpd— He portions 
out to all as His wisdom sees best. Remember .how the 
Blessed Virgin once appeared in a visible; manifestation 
to that humble and patient cousin of your own blessed 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


83 


^ mother’s. When this poor Ursula — such was her baptismal 
name— was ready to faint and perish under the sufferings 
of her lot, she was vouchsafed, as we are told by the holy 
missionary. Father Giardini, a vision of the blessed mother 
of God, in a robe of heavenly blue, with a crown of gold 
upon her head and strings of pearls about her neck. The 
heavenly visitant, seeing this poor soul deserted by her 
cruel husband, and alone in the lodge, discoursed much to 
her about the recompense laid up in store for the patient 
and the faithful, until every pain departed from her.” 

With this consoling anecdote, and a protracted, tender 
embrace, Madame Dubois suffered her . young relative to 
depart. 


CHAPTER X. 

Captain Lytle, having been very hospitably and agree- 
ably entertained at the Fort, prepared himself, after break- 
fast, to descend to the steamer, or rather to the Company’s 
buildings and Miss McGregor. . 

He went to the apartment of his friend Dalton, to inquire 
whether he would walk with him down to McKim’s, or 
whether they should say good-by to each other then and 
there. There was a little affectation in this, for he was 
aware that his friend was officer of the day. 

What, then, was his surprise, on opening the door of 
that gentleman’s apartment, to find him hastily, stuffing 
sundry articles of apparel into a valise, and to be accosted 
with a '‘Wish me joy, old fellow! The major has given 
me a ten days’ leave, and I am off with you to the Bay.” 

Captain Lytle did his best to look delighted. “ But your 
tour of duty ?” he said. 


84 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


** Oh, Burnham takes that for me — it is all arranged. I 
couldn’t, as I told the major, be contented to see so little 
of you, after our long separation,” 

“ Yes — ah I the major is a trump, to be sure. But,” 
said the captain, as if deliberating, “ I don’t feel as if I 
ought to ask so much of the major. I was thinking whether 
it wouldn’t, upon the whole, be better for me to remain 
here now, and finish up what surveys and observations I 
have to make in this neighborhood, before going on to the 
Bay.” 

Very well,” assented Captain Dalton, cheerfully ; you 
might do that. You can get through in aoouple of days, 
I suppose ; and if the schooner Mayfly is not along by that 
time, you can easily get a canoe with a crew who will pull 
you and Stafford over in no time at all. We shall still be 
able to have a fine old time together after you reach the 
Bay. I will set them all to getting up something worth 
while for you to enjoy after you arrive.” 

No idea of stopping at home to entertain him, and then 
enjoying the delights of his society in a pull across to the 
Ba^ after his labors were finished, seeming to occur to his 
friend Dalton, Captain Lytle found himself obliged to say, 
“ Upon the whole, I think I will accompany you, and leave 
this part of my labors till the last.” 

And so the two walked affectionately down to McKim’s 
together, and together they lounged up and down the little 
hall, called at Mr. Malcolm’s without the pleasure of find- 
ing the ladies at home, and strolled along the beach in the 
hot sun,' each resolved that the other should obtain no 
manner of advantage over himself. 

It was not until the passengers were flocking to the boat, 
in obedience to the summons of the bell, that the two friends 
caught sight of their cynosure, or that Stafford had an 
opportunity of greeting the pretty Madeleine. 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


85 


Never, he thought, had she looked so lovely. Her warm 
walk had given her a heightened color, though her large 
Leghorn hat, set, as was then the fashion, upon the top of 
her head and drooping over her face, shaded it from too 
great exposure to the rays of the sun. She had exchanged 
her thick travelling-dress of the day before for a sin^ple 
checked silk, which, fitting closely to her form, showed its 
slender and graceful proportions to advanta^. A scarf 
of plain black silk completed, her costume, the simplicity 
of which was in noticeable contrast with the bright yet 
^ becoming battiste and gay ribbons of her sister. 

As the little boat steamed out of the harbor, and across 
the clear, pure, green waters of the straits, the conipany 
gathered in groups, some to gaze into the transparent 
depths below, and watch the fish darting about as if only 
a limpid atmosphere intervened — others to take an ad- 
miring survey of the ever-changing, ever-solitary landscape. 

The Commissioner was, as usual, extracting informa- 
tion ; he was at the same time casting about for an 
opportunity of reinstating himself in the good graces of 
Miss McGregor. To this end, he went into ecstasies with 
everything that came under his observation. 

‘‘And what did you tell me, he asked of the captain of 
the Uncle Sam, “ is the name of that beautiful headland, 
or island, in the distance 

“No great beauty in the island, or its name either,” 
growled the captain. “It’s called Skillagalee.” 

“ Skillagalee !” repeated the Commissioner. “ I wonder 
what that means 

“Don’t know, I’m sure,” said the captain. “Guess 
Frank Ewing can tell you.” 

But the Commissioner preferred applying to Miss 
McGregor. 

“ Pray, my dear young lady, might I trouble you so 
8 


86 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


far he pleaded, in an insinuating tone. Would you be 
so very kind as to inform me to which Indian dialect this 
name belongs, and what is its meaning?’’ 

‘‘ It belongs to no language that I am acquainted with,” 
said Miss McGregor. 

“ Pteally, that is very strange — Skillagalee ! — it sounds as 
if it might mean something. Ah 1 here comes Mr. Ewing, 
my sheet-anchor — eh. Captain Blunt? My right: bower. 
Captain Love! — eh? Now, Mr. Ewing, the question is, 
the name of that island— Skillagalee I what language is it? 
To what tribe does it belong ?” * ^ 

The name is French,” said Ewing, with mischievous 
gravity. 

“ Skeel-ah-gah — I can’t make it out,” said the perplexed 
Commissioner, screwing his face, and pronouncing the syl- 
lables slowly. 

“ Nor I either,” whispered Madeleine to her friend. 

Ce qu’il a — I not make-him out what he got, neider,” 
said M. Tremblay. 

“It is simply the sailor’s corruption of He d.galet,^^ ex- 
plained Ewing,^ — “ a name given it by the voyageurs, from 
the abundance of small, flat stones, like paving-stones, with 
which the shores of the island are covered.” 

“ IleA galet ! Dey better call him ile a galette,” said M. 
Tremblay; “it look ver’ mooch like ene pancake in his 
shape!” ; ■ : . 

“Excellent! excellent! quite an interesting little item 
of philology,” said the Commissioner. “I do not re- 
member to have seen anything of this kind in print.” And 
he went on jotting down in his menaorandum-book the 
information he had received. 

“Bo travellers often take such liberties with the Presi- 
dent’s French, out here ?” asked Miss Latimer. 

“ Sailors and emigrants do pretty much as they like,” 


MARK LOGAN, TB.E BOURGEOIS. 


87 


said Mr. Ewing, “ For instance, a place in the interior, 
which, being a marsh, was originally called ‘ la Mauvaise 
Terre,’ has now become ‘ Moving Star.’ And another little 
settlement, on an elevated piece of ground, named by the 
first explorers ‘ Terre haute,’ is now ‘ Tarry haughty.’” 

“ The settlers take^^ liberties with our friends the nee- 
chees^ too, sometimes,” said Captain Blunt. “ Down in 
the St. Joseph country they have got in the way of calling 
old To-pee-nee-bee’s village' Tuppenny Bay — 1 suppose they 
think somebody will get it a cheap bargain as soon as they 
drive the rightful owners off.” 

Miss Latimer was greatly amused at these little perver- 
sions ; she was, in fact, in such a gay humor that she could 
have laughed heartily upon still slighter provocation. N ow 
that she had the satisfaction of seeing her favorite Made- 
leine enjoying a degree of placid contentment, she was all 
the better prepared to find satisfaction in whatever met 
her eye or ear. 

As for Colonel Babbitt, he was in a state of beatitude : 
like Captain Cuttle, he “ made a note?’; of everything new 
that offered, and like Oliver Twist, he “ asked for more.” 

“ De bourgeois, he alway keep along de nort’ shore wid 
de boat, I s’pose,” was the remark of M. Tremblay. “Den 
dey shall be at ‘ le Seul Choix’ to-morrow morning.” 

“ Shoo-shwaw — that means ‘ Hobson’s, choice,’ they tell 
me,” said Captain Blunt, willing to contribute his mite. 

“It one ver’ good choice,” said M. Tremblay— “ nice, 
pritty place. 1 voyage dere once, me — many long year 
ago — ver’ nice, only de canaille de voyageur, and de bour- 
geois too, dey play all sort monkey trick on de poor trav- 
eller wat never been to de Seul Ghoix before. Dey hide 
my pantaloon — (I mus’ beg pardon to de ladies)— and dey 


* The Indians. 


88 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


tie a long string to my hat and de noder end of him to one 
bush fast, so ven I get up, chutl Vay go my hat — and so 
many, many hugly trick dey play me.” 

“ My dear sir, will you be so kind as to take this chair 
and sit right down beside me?” said the Commissioner, 
earnestly. “ I should like to have a more detailed account 
of that voyage.” 

And almost by force he drew the reluctant Frenchman 
to a seat close by his side, where, for another half-hour, 
instead of stealing off to his favorite euchre with Captain 
Lovel, he was compelled to answer questions- and recall 
particulars wellnigh forgotten, of the ceremonies by which 
he, as a novice, was initiated into bis frontier life — Seul 
Ghoix being to the voyageur on the lakes what crossing 
the line for the first time is to the mariner upon the ocean. 

Death’s door proved to be, to the travellers, anything 
but the gate of horrors which its name betokened. It had 
rained, and the wind had somewhat freshened during the 
preceding night, but they were now among the islands, 
and there was not enough sea to cause an inconvenient 
motion to the boat. 

The passengers kept their places on the deck. Miss 
McGregor dividing, her smiles so equally between the two 
military friends that neither one could flatter himself with 
cause to triumph over the other. 

The quiet flow of events was, at one time, unpleasantly 
varied by an accident that befell M. Rivard, the Quebec pas- 
senger, on his way to the dining-cabin. In descending the 
stairs, he unfortunately slipped on the polished edge of 
the upper steps, and, falling along the spiral turning, he 
strained and bruised his ankle. At first he made light of 
it, and went to table, eating, as was his wont, with an ex- 
cellent appetite. It was, as usual, quite an amusement to 
the. young ladies, to see the bones come pouring, as if of 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


89 


their owa accord, out of the corners of his mouth, as he 
discussed slice after slice of the rich, red lake trout. 

After a time, however, the old gentleman found himself 
suffering acutely, and altogether too lame to mount the 
stairs, when fhe rest of the company left the table. Mr. 
Ewing, with prompt kindness, procured a bandage from 
the steward and bound up the swollen ankle with cold 
water — then adjusted some pillows upon the lockers, and 
soon had the satisfaction of observing that his ministra- 
tions had alleviated the pain, and that his patient seemed 
likely to fall into a comfortable sleep. 

Madeleine had offered to read to him, and had gone 
in search of her book for the purpose, when the relief 
afforded by the application began to tell upon the old 
gentleman, and while assuring Ewing that One can— 
be — philosophe — when one has — ^^cool — repose — friend — I 

was going to hi» eyes and his observations came to 

a close simultaneously, and the two young people were 
left at liberty to rejoin their party. 

In another hour the steamer was approaching the beau- 
tiful harbor in the larger of the Pottowattamie Islands, at 
which she was to stop and take in wood^ 

It had been, as Captain Blunt expressed it, “ a spoke in 
his wheely” that, fnr some reason or other, he had not been 
able to procure at Mackinac a sufficient supply of fuel to 
serve his little craft to the end of her voyage. There was, 
therefore, no alternative but for him to depend upon the 
zeal and diligence of his crew in adding to their stock at 
the first convenient stopping-place. 

So dense were the forests on the lovely and picturesque 
islands of this group, that the expanse of water forming 
the harbor in question did not open to the view until, in 
passing a sheltered headland, the Uncle Sam came full 
upon its entrance. 

• 8 * 


90 


MARK LOQAK, THE BOURGEOIS. 


An exclamation of joy and surprise burst simultaneously 
from M. Tremblay and Miss McGregor. 

“ The boats I Is it possible 

“ De boat I Les voilk I Vive le bourgeois !” 

Yes, there, drawn up on the beach and tethered to the 
shrubs and bushes along the margin of the water, was the 
little fleet, the object of so much solicitude. They surely 
could not have been long arrived, yet already their cargoes 
were carefully covered with prelarts, or large sheets of 
painted canvas, to protect them from the weather ; and 
fires had be enkindled, and kettles were boiling, in prepa- 
ration for a fresh supply of cooked provisions. 

Voyageurs in their tuques, or “ bonnets rouges,^’* were 
to be seen trotting round in busy fulfilment of their allotted 
duties — some engaged in culinary operations, some bending 
under a supply of dry branches from the recesses of the 
forest, others eugaged in chopping for fuel those already 
brought. 

The eyes of both sisters rested upon the principal figure 
of the group — the bourgeois — as the near approach of the 
steamer gave each object more distinctly to view. 

He was a young man of something more than middle 
height, dressed in the ordinary costume of his class — ^duck 
trousers, so spick and span’? in their neatness as to attest 
that he had taken no part in the labors which told so un- 
mistakably on the toilets of the rest of the party, a shirt 
of clear pink and white calico, and a straw hat wreathed 
with a band of black ostrich-feathers— while a scarf or sash 
of crimson worsted around his waist helped to define the 
symmetrical proportions of his lithe and upright form. 

The face of the young man was so shaded by his broad 
hat that the lookers-on could not determine at once whether 


* The red caps worn by the Canadian boatinen. 


MARK LOGAN, TEE. BOURGEOIS. 91 

it was as prepossessing as the rest of his exterior ; par- 
ticularly as, after the first upward glance, he had turned 
towards a small tent in the background, apparently to give 
some directions to a knot of clerks who stood near it. 

“ Quite a nice-looking young fellow you have there. Miss 
McGregor,” said. Captain Dajtpn. 

“Yes, by George,”, said Captain Level, ho is that! 
Rig him up in a iiniform and put him on parade, and how 
the girls would cry, ‘ Splendid It ‘ Oh 1 bless my stars, ain’t 
he magnificent V I tell you what,” with a laugh, “ he casts 
old Michaud into the shade. My dear,.there^s Michaud, 
who, took us over fp the Sault, the first time wp went there 
— don’t you remember ? That’s he, standing with a paddle 
in his hand,, beside the little tenh I knew Michaud in a 
minute, by his silvery hair curling over his collar.” 

“ So that is the bourgeois,” said Miss McGregor, rather 
to herself than to Captain Dalton ; “ he does look, indeed, 
as if he might be intrusted with the charge of both men 
and cargoes. The other clerks are not amiss, too. The 
bourgeois, as it seems he knows that we are on board, 
will probably come to pay his respects as soon as the boat 
is made fast.”. , 

She continued gazing at the group, surveying with a 
scrutinizing eye each , individual, while the little steamer 
was “backing and filling,” until she finally swung into a 
spot where, owing to the abrupt shelving of the beach, she 
could lie in sufficiently deep water, and at the same time 
be so near the shore that a scafiolding could be run out 
and dropped upon the land. This arrangement was neces- 
sary in order to facilitate the passing and repassing pf the 
party of improvised wood-choppers, oivof such of the pas- 
sengers as might choose to. exchange the monotony of the 
boat for a stroll on shore. Before all these arrangements 
were completed, the young bourgeois had returned from 


92 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


the tent, and he now stood with lifted hat, as if recognizing 
the powers to whom he owed allegiance. 

“ Upon mj word, quite soldierly !” remarked Captain 
Level. 

“ Or rather, quite aristocratic 1” said Captain Lytle, with 
a touch of sarcasm, for he did not like the approving glance 
which Miss McGrregor bestowed upon the young employe. 

“ I wish he would hold his hat so as not to shade bis 
face so completely,” said Miss Latimer, in a low tone, to 
Mr. Ewing. “ I want to see what sort of countenance and 
expression he has. A bourgeois ! I have heard them 
talked of, but I had always fancied them something more 
on a par with the boatmen.” 

Bourgeois is simply the technical name for the person 
in charge,” Ewing explained. “He may be merely an 
engage, or he may be a clerk — more frequently the latter; 
and, being a clerk, he is almost sure to be a gentleman. 
This one, if I mistake not, is of the latter class.” 

“ But where is Madeleine ?” inquired Miss McGregor, 
with sudden recollection. “Miss Latimer, can you tell 
me what has become of my sister ?” 

“ She said she would go and see a little after M. Rivard,” 
was the reply. “I think she proposed to stay and read 
awhile to the poor gentleman. Shall I inquire for her?” 

“ Oh, no, thank you. I dare say she prefers being there, 
talking about Quebec friends with M. Rivard, who is a 
neighbor of the Lindsays, as I understand. The boats 
have very little interest for her. Four, five, seven, nine, 
eleven — they seem to be all right, monsieur-^a clerk to 
each boat, besides two supernumeraries who were left at 
Mackinac. Quite a respectable, nice-looking set I Entirely 
trustworthy, I dare say; for, of course, they all, as well 
as the bourgeois, are of Mr. Patterson’s selection.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


93 


CHAPTER XL 

Are we going on shore f That is charming ! I will 
find Madeleine and tell her,’^ cried Miss Latimer. She 
ran to the stairs of the gentlemen’s cabin and called, — 

“ Madeleine, Madeleine, where are you ?” 

No one answered. She descended the stairs anddooked 
in. There lay M: Rivard asleep upon the lockers, but no 
Madeleine beside him. After a little further search she 
found her friend leaning upon the guards on the side of the 
boat farthest from shore. She looked, Grace thought, a 
little disturbed — even, she fancied, a shade paler than 
usual. 

Madeleine, darling, are you not well ? Is it the heat, 
or is it this swinging motion of the boat ?” 

“ It is nothing — I am quite well,” said Madeleine, but the 
tone was not her ordinary cheerful one. 

“ Something that her sister has been saying to her, 
doubtless. It cannot be anything she has been hearing or 
telling about the Quebec friends, for M. Rivard is in the 
land of dreams.” 

Such were Miss Latimer’s thoughts; but she said, 
aloud, — 

“ Come, dear, we are all going on shore as soon as they 
get the staging ready. They will be waiting for us.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know — perhaps I had better not ” 

“And why, pray? Surely you are not afraid to go 
down the staging ? That would be a joke I Why, you can 
have a gentleman on each side to assist you. I thought 
Western girls were afraid of nothing. Come, your sister 
was just asking for you.” 


94 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Thus urged, Madeleine yielded. As she turned to ac- 
company her, Grace saw that she held a letter in her hand 
which she was thrusting into her pocket. 

“Ahl” said Misa Latimer, in A tone.K)f raillery, “have 
we had a mail by a carrier-dove, and has it thrown us into 
a rey^rie-^almost into tears?’’ she added, softening as she 
looked fully into the countenance of her friend. “ Never 
mind, darling— qheer up. You shall see them all again, 
and be as happy as the day is long.” She kissed' her, drew 
her arm within her own, and together they repaired to the 
open gangway where the passengers were assembled pre- 
paratory to a descent along the steep scaffolding by which 
they were to reach the shore below. 

There was neither difficulty nor danger in the under- 
taking, though the boards bent and creaked, alarmingly 
utlder the weight of Mrs. Smart’s solid, compact person. 

Madeleine was the last to venture. She had stood a few 
moments gazing upon the scene below, which was exceed- 
ingly animated and attractive, as it lay half in, shade, half 
in the warm, yellow light of the afternoon sun. She saw 
her sister advance, and with stately mien receive the salute 
of the young bourgeois, and the more bashful obeisances 
of the inferior clerks. Sb® could see how. Monica’s features 
relaxed into a smile as she nodded to the humbler em- 
ployes, in return for their tug at their fore-top, and 
thrusting back of the leg, which was their nearest approach 
to a bow— and how she teven vouchsafed a few cordial 
words in reply to the light and gay remarks of the older 
voyageurs. 

Sqon it came her turn to descend. 

“ Now, don’t be timid and lose your balance,?’ cried Miss 
Latimer, merrily, from below. “ I can sqe from here that 
you are trembling like an aspen. What a heroine to put 
into my * Notes and Observations’!” 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


95 


** I am not trembling, in the least,” said Madeleine; yet 
Ewing, who stood ready to assist her, was so much of a 
contrary opinion that, while conducting her with one hand 
as he advanced, by a retrograde movement, down the plank, 
he involuntarily put forward his other hand to support her. 

Miss McGregor frowned as she observed the interest 
with which the young bourgeois was watching the ' pro- 
ceeding. She noticed that he hardly attended to the words 
she was addressing him, and that once, when her sister’s 
steps tottered for a moment, he niade a Slight movement 
as if he were on the point of Stepping forward to her assist- 
ance. With sudden recollection, however, he‘ withdrew 
his eyes, and gave the instructions and inquiries he was 
receiving the proper attention, Madeleine, in the mean 
time, strolling a little apart with her friend, who, linking 
her arm in hers, sauntered with her to a cool, sequestered 
spot somewhat retired from the observation of the rest of 
the party. 

Here, let me take off your hat and bathe your face in 
this cool, clear water,” said Miss Latimer. “It will act as 
a sedative on your nerves. Why, Madeleine, I’ would 
never have believed you had so little courage !” 

Madeleine laughed, and yet the tears came again as her 
friend spoke. 

“Ah ! we are going to be a little hysterical, are we ?” 
said Grace, playfully, at the same time dipping her hand- 
kerchief in the water and plashing her friend’s face. 

“There, go, leave me’ to myself, and I shall soon feel 
bright and- well again,” said Madeleine, as she stooped, 
and with handfuls of the cool element laved her face and 
brow until they had recovered, in some measure, their cus- 
tomary hue and expression. 

“ Now, do you feel like wandering about and exploring a 
little ?” said Miss Latimer. 


96 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ No ; I will sit here quietly. Leave me for awhile, and 
come back when you have seen all that you can find to 
interest you.” 

“ Well, if you insist,” said Grace, only half reluctant. 
“ I must, first of all, go and take a peep into the tent yon- 
der and see how these gentry keep house for themselves — 
and I mus.t have a talk with that fine gray-haired old 
fellow — and, if I can make myself bold enough^ I shall 
contrive to. chat a little with the gentlemanly young bour- 
geois, as they call him, and learn some of the particulars 
of his voyage up from Montreal. Who knows but that he 
may let me into his own history and private affairs as well ? 
He looks quite like a hero of romance. As he stood there 
talking to your sister, I could not help thinking of a paladin 
of old, offering his homage to a princess. Now kiss me, 
dear, and be sure to get over this little spasm before I come 
back. Perhaps I shall bring you a nice budget of news. 
Ah I now you are beginning to look better— quite like 
yourself,” as Madeleine smiled her own sweet, gentle 
smile. 

Poor thing I” said Miss Latimer to herself, as she 
turned away. “It is no wonder that, at times, $he is a 
little incomprehensible ! Never to be allowed fhe slightest 
freedom of word or action I It is to be hoped that matters 
will change when she gets back to her father’s arms and 
her home on the Mississippi. I am certain I could not 
bear it with such sweet patience if I bad a sister like hers.” 

After Grace left her, Madeleine continued sitting on the 

fallen log where she had first placed herself, and gazing 

now on the pebbly beach at her feet, now on the flash , and 
sparkle of the waves in :the brilliant sunlight; yet she 
hardly saw them, so deeply was she meditating^-neither 
did her ear, for a time, take in a sound — not even the 
ringing of the axes in the forest around. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

At length she roused herself, and, finding that she was 
not likely to be intruded upon at present, she drew from 
her pocket the letter which she bad thrust into it before 
leaving the steamer. It was from her friend Clara — -one 
which she had found awaiting her in Detroit, nearly three 
weeks after they had parted in Quebec. She read it over 
again carefully, and there was now a sigh and now a smile 
as she scanned its pages. It was as follows; 

** Quebec, June 17th, 18 — . 

“ My darling Madeleine, — Papa has not pronounced 
an absolute interdict upon our correspondence, though I 
fear you considered his remark, when we spoke of writing 
to each other, a virtual prohibition, and therefore would 
not write to me first. 

^ “ I hope I am not undutiful in taking the lead in the 
matter — but indeed, my dear, I believe papa spoke more 
from the impulse of the moment than from any settled 
intention of depriving us of so great a pleasure. He has 
not felt at ease, as you are aware, since dear Malcolm left 
us; it is, therefore, not surprising that he should be, at 
times, irritable and unreasonable to a degree quite foreign 
to his ordinary temperament and character. Perhaps a 
leaven is working which will, in time, produce happy re- 
sults ; let us pray that it may be so, for we are all far enough 
from happy now. 

“ You will, I am certain, wish for tidings of one for whom 
you entertain so tender a friendship. My darling, I grieve 
to say that I have none to impart to you that it is pleasant 
for me to write. Only one letter since you left, and that 
anything but consoling. He told me not to be uneasy if 
1 did not hear from him as frequently as heretofore, for he 
should be absent for a time from New York, and therefore 
his letters must come to me at rarer intervals than hitherto 

9 


98 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


— ^perhaps some weeks even might elapse before I would 
hear from iiim again. Does he think I could help being 
uneasy and very unhappy at such a silence ? 

“ Then he says I ‘must not fancy he is going to China, 
or Chili, or Calcutta^ — that ‘ he is only going to embark in 
an enterprise which, he thinks, will have an important 
bearing on the prospects of his future life, ^ and that ‘he 
knows I will approve of the step he is taking when I 
come to know all the circumstances connected with it.^ 
Now, this is all Greek to me. If he is going to our uncle 
in England, as I suppose, why does he not tell me ? And 
why does he talk of my approving it ? Dear boy 1 any- 
thing that he thinks best in the painful position in which 
he is placed will, of course, meet my approbation. 

“Good old Graham contrived to bring me this letter, 
which my brother had sent, under cover, to him. I sonie- 
times fancy my father half suspects him of being a medium 
of communication between us. It has seemed to me that 
he has been, of late, more tender than ever of the poor old 
man, often saying to him at the breakfast-table, ‘ Captain, 
I think you had better not go to the office to-day. Sit in 
your own little room, and, if you must be doing something, 
let one of the boys bring you up your books and papers.’ 
But poor Captain regularly declines. He would not miss 
the possible chance of getting a letter and bringing it to 
me when he comes at one o’clock to luncheon (which my 
father, you know, never takes). Then, after I have dis- 
missed the servants, he will sit and sip his cup of hot tea, 
and discourse about ‘his bonny boy,’ till it generally ends 
in a good cry on the part of both of us. 

“The old gentleman talks about you, too, at times. 
‘That pretty little white rose,’ he will say/ ‘who could 

never learn to beat the old man at backgammon and I 

tried to lose a game to her, too, now and then.’ Now, 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


99 


have not I made you laugh a little ? And you would have 
laughed still more if you could have seen the address of 
dear Malcolm’s letter to him. I am sure the messenger 
must have wondered, when he brought in the mail, who 
poor Captain had for correspondent I Such writing I 

“ I think that our good old friend is failing under this 
last trial, and I fancy it makes some trouble at the oflQce, 
for I beard McTavish (your standing aversion) remark, in 
his flippant way, ‘How much better to pay the old man 
his salary and keep him out of the office altogether I’ I 
could not help replying to him, ‘ You forget, sir, that Cap- 
tain Graham is my father’s friend, not his pensioner.’ 

“ Few men would show such uniformly delicate, re- 
spectful consideration for an old, broken-down, impov- 
erished friend, as my father does. I cannot but admire 
him for it, and I often ask myself, ‘ How is it that, wdth a 
heart so tender, so, 'full of kind feeling for the rest of the 
world, the only portion he succeeds in indurating is that 
which belongs to his only son ? and such a son I’ I had 
not the least suspicion, for a long time, of the cause of the 
estrangement between them. It was because my father 
wished him to marry one of Colonel Darner’s, daughters — 
the tall lady in blue, whom you saw at our house the last 
party dear mamma gave before she was taken ill. She is 
'very pretty and accomplished, but if Malcolm did not 
love her I think he was right not to marry her. I told 
you my opinion, you recollect, before you left, though I did 
not before give you all these particulars. I thought it 
was a matter between him and my father, until Louisa’s 
letter came, She takes strong ground against my poor 
brother — thinks him quite insensible to the ‘honor of his 
family,’ as well as to the wishes of his friends. What she 
means I cannot understand. The honor of our family, it 
seems to me, does not need the support of the Darner alii- 


100 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


ance. I fancy the old friendship between Colonel Darner 
and Lord Crayfield’s father may have influenced Louisa’s 
opinions in a measure — ^the ‘ pomps and vanities,’ etc. have 
done the rest. Poor, dear sister! Malcolm says in his 
letter, ‘ Tell my little friend she promised to think of me 
every time she looked at the rainbow but, darling, it is 
coming winter by-and-by, when there will be no rainbows 1 
Still, you must not forget him — for my sake, remember, as 
well as his own. Well, good-night, my dear, darling Made- 
leine. Write to me often — you may venture to do so. 
May our Father in heaven send his holy angels to guard 
you ! Your ever-loving, lonely Clara.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

In her . spirit of enterprise, having undertaken to watch 
carefully over her father’s interests. Miss McGregor bad at 
first designed to take passage for the return home of her- 
self and party in the Company’s boats from Montreal to 
Mackinac. This project was laid aside in compliance with 
a wish expressed in a letter from her father, that both sis- 
ters should visit Boston and Niagara before their return to 
the West, She had, therefore, contented herself with a 
trip to Montreal, to confer with Mr. Patterson in regard to 
“ the outfit,” and then returned to Quebec for her sister, 
with whom and M. Tremblay she journeyed through the 
Eastern cities, arriving at Buffalo in time to. put down 
their names in the Uncle Sam as passengers from Detroit 
to Green Bay, but taking passage to the former place in 
the little Pioneer, some days in advance, and thus securing 
a visit to certain friends in that place. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


101 


There were, in that day, two routes for the transporta- 
tion of the annual supply of boats and men from Montreal 
to Mackinac, the great entrepot of the American Fur Com- 
pany. The time had been when these boats were the only 
means of conveyance for the heavy cargoes of all the varied 
articles necessary in the Indian trade, as well as for the 
comfort of those employed in the vast domain where the 
outposts of the Company were located. 

The number of boats purchased and sent each season 
varied from eight to sixteen. Six or eight of the gay, 
hardy race of Canadian voyageurs as crews, with perhaps 
a couple of supernumerary engages, and a clerk to super- 
intend, were the ordinary complement for bringing each 
boat the long, devious, difficult route across the Province 
of Canada to the broad waters where navigation was no 
longer a toil. To accomplish this transit, what was known 
as “ the lower route’^ was the one most frequently chosen. 

By this, the party ascended the St, Lawrence and Lake 
Ontario to Little York, now the city of Toronto. Oxen 
and stout carts, which had formed part of the lading of the 
boats, were here put in travelling order, and by their means 
both boats and cargoes were transported over a stretch of 
eighteen miles to Lake Simcoe. Here the carts were de- 
montee, or again taken apart, and packed as before, until 
this lake was passed and the last portage reached, when 
the cattle were disposed of to the settlers around, and the 
little fleet made its way down the Missipeecoton River to 
the broad and.beautiful Lake Huron. Coasting along the 
shores of this vast expanse, sometimes venturing to put 
up a sail and stretch from point to point, but more fre- 
quently depending on their oars alone, the voyageurs would 
at length reach their place of destination— Michilimackinac. 

In process of time, when the facilities of communication 
had so far increased as to allow the large supplies of blan- 

9 * 


102 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


kets, cloths, calicoes, Northwest guns, powder and shot, to 
say nothing of “ whiskey and other knick-knacks’’ plentifully 
used in the Indian trade, to be brought to Mackinac in 
vessels of larger size across Lake Erie, the boats from Mon- 
treal came up comparatively “light,” and then the upper 
and more attractive route was most frequently chosen. 

The portages on this route were made in a different 
manner from that observed on the other — the loading being 
packed upon the shoulders of certain of the vOyageurs, 
while the boats were, by the aid of a long rope and the 
good muscles of the rest of the crew, drawn up the rapids. 

This latter route was the one which had been chosen by 
Logan ; and had it suited the young man to gratify Miss 
Latimer’s curiosity by giving her a detailed account of his 
adventures, his narrative would unquestionably have helped 
to deepen her conviction that she was indeed in the land 
of romance. 

There was so much in this charming and picturesque 
voyage to repay the traveller for the toils and inconveni- 
ences incident to it, that, with the exception of the’ single 
feature of Niagara, the young ladies might well have given 
up the whole route by which they reached Mackinac in 
exchange for its enjoyment. 

Their very first experience, the ascent d cordon of the 
long, foaming rapid of Le Saut St. Louis, would have filled 
them with delight; and still more touching would have 
been the customary visit to the little church of St. Ann’s, 
where, if devotionally inclined, they might “sing their 
parting hymn,” and even join the simple voyageur in his 
petitions to the “ saint of the green isle” that he would 
grant them “ a cool heaven and favoring air.” 

The young bourgeois, not insensible to the beauties of 
Nature, had felt keenly the want of some sympathizing 
companion in the appreciation of all that be met to gratify 


MARK LOGAK, THE BOURGEOIS. 


103 


the eje and the ear, from the first hour of his embarkation. 
It was not until after floating over the classical expanse 
of “ Utdwa’s tide,” and nearing the confluence with it of 
the Rideau or Curtain River, that he fully felt how “one 
touch of Nature makes the whole world kin.” 

This smaller river falls, just at its mouth, over a rock 
some thirty feet in height, the cascade being divided mid- 
way by a little island, tufted with evergreens, and parting 
the waters in such a fashion as to give the whole the ap- 
pearance of a white curtain drawn to either side. The 
scene, as they approached, was lighted up by the golden 
and crimson rays of the afternoon sun, forming a landscape 
of surpassing beauty. The exclamations of delight from 
the untutored voyageurs who looked upon it for the first 
time caused an added thrill of pleasure in the breast of 
their leader, even though their rapturous feelings were 
expressed in language which might savor of irreverence. 

“Eh — h — h! Saint Bapteme 1 Comme c’estjoli 9 a!”* 

“ Regardez 1 regardez I O’est la fenetre du bon Dieu et 
des saints anges I”'|’ 

“ Quelles merveilles 1 Quels miracles I Sacr 6 mon 
diablel”! 

The “hivernants” — those who had made the voyage 
before — preserved a lofty silence ; but the, bourgeois felt 
half his load of solitude lightened by these occasional 
demonstrations from the unsophisticated “mangeurs de 
lard.”§ 

Anxious to fulfil the injunctions of Mr. Patterson, who 
had explained to him his reasons for wishing that the trans- 


* Holy Baptism ! How pretty that is ! 

f Look ! look ! That is the window of Hod and the holy angels I 
t What wonders ! Confound the devil! 

\ Novices — literally, pork-eaters. 


104 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


portation of his supplies to the Mississippi should be made 
with the greatest dispatch possible, the young bourgeois 
would rouse his men each morning at peep of dawn,” 
and push forward, never sparing his own exertions in trans- 
porting burdens around the portages, nor shrinking from 
taking to the water with the others when the boats were 
to be dragged by main force through the rapids. A long 
rest through the burning heat of the day would refresh 
all hands for a vigorous pull during the evening hours, 
and often far into the night ; such was the zeal with which 
Logan, with his adjutant Michaud, had succeeded in in- 
spiring the voyageurs for carrying out his design of making 
the trip in a shorter time than it had ever been made 
before. The reason for Patterson’s injunctions to unwonted 
celerity will appear in due time ; Logan, for his part, was 
nowise backward in fulfilling the old gentleman’s behests. 

Not even upon the long stretches of the Ottawa River 
did he allow to be heard the gentle, plaintive chaunt which 
we are accustomed to call par excellence The Canddian 
Boat-Song. Instead of its pensive strains there would 
resound in emulative chorus the lively refrain, — 

“ Derriere chcz-nous il y a une orme, 

Pour voici le joli mois du Mai, 

Qui tous les ans rapport une pomme. 

Car voici le joli mois qu’il donne, 

Pour voici le joli mois du Mai.”* 

The honest voyageurs trolled out in good faith this 
horticultural miracle, as they did the irreverent satire of a 
succeeding verse : — 


* Behind our house is an elm-tree. 
Which every year bears an apple, 

For this is the pleasant month of May. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


105 


** Par ici ont pass6es trois nonnes, 

. Pour voici le joli mois du Mai, 

Les plus jeunes dies les plus friponnes, 

Pour voici le joli mois qu’il donne, 

Pour voici le joli mois du Mai.”* 

Another ballad which always possessed an inspiring 
charm for the crew was a string of advice, corresponding 
in sentiment with the popular little refrain, “ Tu t’en re- 
pentiras, Colin,” — 

“ Par-derri^re chez ma tante, Par-derri^re chez ma tante, 

II y a un coq qui chante, Demando une femme a prendre. 
Chorus. — Des pommes, des poires, des raves, des choux, 

Des Agues nouvelles, des raisins doux.^f 

And,’ as it goes on, partners of whatever complexion are 
successively rejected ; — 

“ Ne prenez pas une noire. 

Car elles aiment trop a boire,* 

Ne prenez pas une rousse. 

Car elles sont trop jalouses; 

Ke prenez pas une blanche. 

Car elles sont trop chargeantes ; 

Ne prenez pas une brune. 

Car elles gardent trop rancune,”t etc. etc. 

One of the most striking features of the voyage was Les 


* Three nuns have passed by — 

The youngest damsels are the most roguish. 

For this is the pleasant month of May. 

■{■ Behind the house of my aunt there is a cock who crows. 
And asks what wife he shall take. 

Chorus. — Apples, pears, radishes, cabbages, "*■ 
Fresh figs, and sweet grapes. 

X Do not take a black one— they are too fond of drinking; 
Do not take a red one — they are too jealous ; 

Do not take a white one — they are too expensive; 

Do not take a brown one — they are too sulky, etc. etc. 


106 


MARK LOO AN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


ChaudUres, or Kettle Falls. A rock extending from shore 
to shore, here intercepted the course of the Ottawa River. 
So completely was the stream cut off that no water could 
be seen falling over the cliff, and one might fancy it lost in 
the bowels of the earth, did it not, after working its way 
through various subterranean channels and fissures of the 
rock, again make its appearance, after an interval, boiling 
and foaming up from below, like water in a huge caldron 
— whence its name. 

With a celerity hitherto unknown in the annals of voy- 
aging, our,.young bourgeois and his engages pursued their 
way, passing the “ Portage des deux Joachims,’^ crossing 
the broad Lake Kipissing, and finally reaching French 
River, which they descended to Lake Huron. The weather 
favored their passage among the islands and along the 
coast, and there were not wanting occasional breezes, by 
the aid of which they could spread their sails and, darting 
from point to point, avoid the sinuosities and indentations 
of the numerous little bays. 

Old Michaud was upon all occasions the oracle, for he 
was that honored person “ uu hivernant” — and the bour- 
geois suffered himself in all doubtful matters to be guided 
by the counsels and experience of the quaint and simple- 
hearted old voyageur. Thus the party, to the pride and 
satisfaction of the bourgeois, reached Mackinac, as we have 
seen, the day before the arrival of the Uncle Sam. 

Not a day could be given to the crew for their customary 
holiday — that is to say, for the recreations of drinking, 
fighting, and getting disciplined for the same. 

Instead of this, — and how it was accomplished Mr. Mal- 
colm could not divine,— the little fleet was away again o;i 
the second morning, coasting the northern shore of the 
straits towards the famous Seul Choix, a point whence they 
could shoot across to the Pottowattamie Islands, along and 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 101 

among which they might, in comparative tranquillity, con- 
tinue their course to Green Bay, the next important halting- 
place upon their route. 


CHAPTEK XIIL 

As Madeleine at length left her position on the log by 
the side of the lake, and came forward into the open space, 
she was called to by her sister, who was still occupied in 
taking information, inspecting, and advising. 

^‘Madeleine, come here, if you please.” 

The young girl advanced slowly. 

“ This is the bourgeois, Mr. Logan. It is proper that 
you should join me in thanking him for having acquitted 
himself so satisfactorily in the charge intrusted to him.” 

The color mounted into the young man’s face. Made- 
leine colored too, at an address which might have been the 
commendation of a menial. She bent a low and courteous 
salute, without, however, proffering a word. The acknowl- 
edgment of the introduction, if such it could be called, was, 
on the part of the bourgeois, equally courteous and equally 
silent. , 

Miss McGregor looked annoyed ; then, again addressing 
her sister, she said, coldly, — 

And here is Ducharme — at least you can speak to him. 
Michaud!” . 

The old voyageur came forward, bending low, and with 
the significant gesture of the hand to the forehead, as he 
removed the pipe from his mouth to make room for the 
inevitable, — 


108 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Excusez la politesse d’un grossier.”* 

“ This is my sister, Michaud — you have not seen her 
before.’’ 

“ Oh, pardon 1 j’ai deja vu mademoiselle, il y a trois ans, 
je crais. Seigneur I Comme elle a grandie I La demoi- 
selle se porte-elle bien?”f 

“ y ery well, thank you,” replied the young lady, in French. 
‘‘And you, Michaud, have you had a nice voyage ? What 
admirable speed you have made I- — a shorter trip than was 
ever made before. How pleased my father will be I” 

The old man ducked his head with successive bows, and, 
smiling, displayed a set of square, regular teeth, slightly 
embrowned, it is true, by tobacco and kinnikinnick, yet not 
one of which was wanting. 

“ Now, we shall expect you to take us home in the best 
of time, Michaud. After we leave the steamer at the Bay, 
you know, we shall be entirely under your care.” 

She chatted thus affably, the old man looking more and 
more delighted with every word she uttered. Not so her 
sister, who soon found occasion to whisper to her, — 

“ It seems to me better policy to be a little civil to the 
bourgeois. Certainly as much depends upon him as upon 
Michaud. Why should we offend a person in his posi- 
tion?” 

Madeleine, without acting upon the hint, turned to seek 
her friend Miss Latimer, who had advanced a little into 
the shelter of the wood, where a group of young voyageurs 
were seated around a pan of corn soup, each helping him- 
self to his share with his little wooden ladle. 

. “ The new recruits, mangeur's de lard, as we call them. 


♦ “ Excuse my clownish politeness.” 

f Oh, yes I I have already seen the young lady, threfe years ago, I 
believe. How she has grown ! Is she well ?” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 109 

are kept by the older hands, as a class by themselves” — 
Mr. Ewing was explaining thus to Miss Latimer, while the 
Commissioner was entering in his note-book both that, and 
whatever other fact he could catch a hint of, in his progress 
from group to group. 

“ W as your curiosity gratified by an inspection of the 
tent?” asked Madeleine, in a tone which, although low, 
caught the ear of the Commissioner. 

“ The tent ? Ah I yes, the tent of the bourgeois I” he 
exclaimed. “ Doubtless we may find something peculiar 
in its construction and arrangement. I would suggest a 
walk in that direction.” 

“ You will find nothing unusual or peculiar to re- 
ward you,” replied Mr. Ewing. “Still, we may as well 
take it in our way to the boat,” he added, as the bell for 
supper now began to make its din heard above all other 
sounds. 

The two rival officers had not intruded upon Miss 
McGregor while she was occupied with her own imme- 
diate affairs. They had contented themselves with furtively 
watching each other, until she should be at liberty to re- 
ceive their attentions; now they both darted forward at 
the sound of the bell, eager to aid her in ascending the 
platform. 

M. Tremblay, to whose views and opinions not the 
slightest reference had, thus far, been made, hazarded a 
parting remark to the bourgeois, — 

“We shall go now in de steam-boat, and bum-by we 
come to de bay — den we wait for you. Some people shall 
tell you were you shall aspect to find us.” 

“ For fear they should not, however,” added Miss 
McGregor, “ it may be as well for you to know that we 
shall be at Monsieur Berthelet’s, quite near the Company’s 
warehouse. You will, of course,” with a condescending 

10 


110 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


gesture to the young man, “call to report your arrival at 
the earliest possible moment.’’ 

Her intimation was received with a formal inclination 
of the head, which deepened into a more deferential salu- 
tation to the younger sister, as the elder swept by and 
allowed herself to be escorted by her two cavaliers to the 
deck of the Uncle Sam. 

In due time the last wood-party with its burden was 
on board, and before the light of the departed sun had quite 
faded from the western sky the little steamer was again 
ploughing its way over the green waters of the Bay. 

It was not, however, to reach its point of destination 
without further adventure. 

From no want of skill in Captain Blunt or his pilot, but 
owing simply to the ever-shifting channel through the 
sandy bars and spits abounding in the. estuary, the little 
craft grounded on the flats, a few miles below the fort which 
guarded the entrance to the Fox River. This was no un- 
usual occurrence, and it was always one which necessitated 
the transfer of such as could not wait the results of time 
(tides there were none in those waters) to small boats, 
invariably dispatched from both fort and village to assist 
in bringing up to the settlement the passengers with their 
luggage. 

Several of these little “lighters” sped their way to the 
Uncle Sam as soon as it was understood what her predica- 
ment was. Hardly had they come within hailing-distance 
when one and another voice was heard shoutinff, — 

“ Have you heard the news ?” 

“ Of course not. How should we, out in the broad lake ? 
What is it?” 

“ Oh ! the Indians — all up in arms I Killing and scalp- 
ing I” 

“ What ! here among you ? Here at the Bay ?” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Ill 


“ Not exactly down here yet, though of course they soon 
will be. ” 

The moment the speakers had mounted to the deck, all on 
board were crowding around them, to gather particulars. 
Mrs. Smart, with her sturdy shoulders, had greatly the 
advantage in pushing herself into thb foremost rank of 
eager inquirers. Madeleine, pale as death, yet wore a 
face a shade less ghastly than that of Lieutenant Smithett, 
as he turned from one to another, asking, in an agitated 
voice, — 

“ Are you sure this is true ? How do you get the news 

“Oh,” was the ready answer, “there are always plenty 
of friendly Indians, you know, coming and going.” 

“ And, besides, a boat on her way up to the Portage was 
turned back several days ago, by the old chief Four-Legs, 
with the warning that there was no road through his 
country now.V 

The eyes of all the company seemed by common impulse 
to turn to Miss McGregor. 

“ Foolish reports, brought by some faint-hearted cow- 
ard !” she said, scornfully. 

“ Pardon me, madam,, but I think you are mistaken,” 
said an oflScer, who, having enjoyed the triumph of being 
the first to communicate this thrilling piece of news, was 
now warmly welcoming Captain and Mrs. Lovel and others 
of his acquaintance. 

“For my part, I have not the least doubt that trouble is 
brewing up there,” said the Governor, calmly. “ I told 
them how it would be, if they did not maintain a sufficient 
force on our frontier, particularly in the neighborhood of 
the mineral lands, to keep trespassers off. If we allow 
these diggers to run over the lines by hundreds, and spoil 
the hunting-grounds of the Indians, we must look for 
trouble. I warned Government how it would be — that if 


112 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


we did not protect the Indians they would protect them- 
selves, and in a way we should not soon forget. They did 
not heed what I said, and now we must look for the con- 
sequences.’’ 

Madeleine listened with a countenance of terror. Her 
hands were clasped, and, with an appealing look towards 
her sister, she almost sobbed forth, — 

“Oh, Monica, what shall we do? How are we to get 
to papa ? Think of him, in the midst of all these — these 
horrors I” 

“ Have no fears, Madeleine. Even if this is all true, 
which I very much doubt, what can harm our father ? And 
who will stay us in going to him ?” 

She raised her head rather loftily as she uttered these 
words. 

“Nevertheless, let me tell you, it is a pretty serious 
matter, madam,” said the ofScer who had before spoken, 
and who seemed to be a man of some experience. “ There 
can be no room to doubt that a feeling of dissatisfaction is 
very generally cherished among both the Sauks and Foxes 
and the Winnebagoes, and also that the latter are endeav- 
oring to stir up the Menomonees and Chippewas to join 
them in decided steps of hostility. I do not say they have 
not cause — we all know they have just cause. And we 
cannot be ignorant of another thing — that at this very mo- 
ment their intentions, of whatever nature, are well known 
to the British authorities, and that the different tribes are 
by them being supplied with the sinews of war. If there 
were an unfriendly Indian council held at Four-Legs’ 
village, for instance, the officers at Drummond’s Island 
would know every particular of it before we, close at hand, 
should begin even to scent the danger.” 

“ But what, then, will become of our proposed treaty ?” 
said the Commissioner. “ It will not be a pleasant thing 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


113 


to go and attempt to sit down with 'chiefs and warriors 
while matters are in this state I'^ 

“ No, no ; something must be done,” said the Governor. 
“We will see — we will see, I told thenr how it would be 
— that they had better not draw Off so great a portion of 
the troops in this neighborhood and send them to still 
more remote posts ; but they would not listen to me. Now 
that the Indians have been intruded upon and helrassed 
and persecuted by those miserable wretches who infest our 
frontiers, a spirit is aroused which it will not be easy to 
quell. Those who manage our affairs have had their own 
way, but unhappily it will be the innocent who will suffer 
for it.” 

As neither the facts in the case, nor the proper manner 
of meeting them, could be settled by a discussion on the 
decks of the Uncle Sam, the passengers, with trembling 
haste, betook themselves to selecting and making ready 
their baggage, and to othe.r preliminaries for an embarka- 
tion on board one or another of the smaller boats in which 
they were to be rowed — some to the eastern bank of the 
Fox River, along which lay the scattered settlements called 
“ the town others to the western shore, upon a point of 
which stood the not very imposing picketed inclosure of 
Fort Howard. 

“ We Avill not say good-by,” said Miss Latimer, kissing 
her friend affectionately, “for we shall see each other, I 
hope, quite often, while you are here. You will come every 
day to the Fort, will you not ?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know, dear Grace, what we shall do,” said 
Madeleine, in a troubled voice. “We expected to have 
set out for home as soon as the boats with their crews 
should arrive, but it seems now as if that wmuld be out of 
the question — unless Monica should insist on pushing right 
on, and braving the danger. I wish I were as heroic as 

10 * 


114 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

• 

she is ; but I am ndt — the very thought of these terrible 
people makes my heart’s blood curdle. Oh 1 she must not 
go — she must not go I” 

“No, dear, she will not, I am sure she will not, till all 
is again quiet and safe,” said Miss Latimer, soothingly. 
“ Your friends will not allow such a thing. Perhaps the 
Governor will devise some means of tranquillizing the tribes 
before long, or he may get the commanding officer at the 
Fort to send an escort of soldiers to protect you. Or your 
father, apprehending danger, may send trusty Indians to 
conduct you home. A thousand things may happen. Don’t 
suffer yourself to feel despondent — take courage I All will 
go well, depend upon it.” 

Thus Miss Latimer comforted her friend, and they parted, 
promising to meet as often as possible — sometimes at 
Shanty-town (the euphonious name of that part of the 
settlement where stood M. Berthelet’s residence), some- 
times at the garrison, to which they received an earnest 
invitation from Mrs. Lovel, as well as from Grace, on the 
part of her cousin, Mrs. Holcomb. 

“ Good in the guise of evil,” said Captain Lytle, in a low 
tone, as he was about handing Miss McGregor through 
the side gangway into the little boat, in which stood Mr. 
Ewing, ready to assist her descent. “ The gods are pro- 
pitious to me. They are ordering matters so as to keep 
you here till after I get through my exploring trip down 
the Bay. I foresee that I am to have the happiness of 
finding you here on my return.” 

There was a tone of assumption in the speech that 
Miss McGregor did not quite like. She colored slightly ; 
she was not one with whom any one could presume with 
impunity ; still, she remembered that some allowance 
should be made for the excitement into which the disturb- 
ing news they had just received had thrown the whole 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


115 


party. She, therefore, although a little more stately than 
usual in her manner, took, upon the whole, a more amiable 
leave of her gallant attendant than quite suited Captain 
Dalton, who was forced to content himself with a simple 
“ Good-morning,’^ in return for his best bow and most 
smiling “Au re voir.” 


CHAPTER XIY. 

So, this is the Fort I” said Miss Latimer, as she passed 
in through the gateway — a large, square, ungainly open- 
ing in the ancient, whitewashed pickets which gave en- 
trance to the parade-ground. 

She gazed with amused astonishment on the long ranges 
of quarters and barracks, each propped by huge beams of 
timber placed slantwise from the ground to the upper story, 
as if to keep the fabric from falling forward. 

Poor Lieutenant Smithett looked perfectly aghast as he 
contemplated his future home. He glanced around for 
Mrs. Siinart, his never-failing resource in trouble, but she 
had stopped at the quarters her husband had provided for 
her outside the walls. 

“Good gracious!” he exclaimed, at length, not caring 
exactly whom he' addressed, “they surely don’t expect 
people to put up with such accommodations as these! 
Why, they look as if they might tumble to pieces any 
minute. And I dare say they are full of all sorts of things ! 
It wouldn’t be very difficult, either, I should think, for the 
Indians to batter down that old log fence, if they set about 
it in earnest. I do think it is positively shameful! But 
what in the world is that man walking along on the top 
of the fence for ?” 


116 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


The question was addressed to Captain Lovel, who hap- 
pened to be nearest him. 

“ I rather think be has been out on a frolic, and they’ve 
put him up there for punishment,” replied the captain, with 
perfect seriousness. 

“ Oh, my dear, don’t plague the young man,” said Mrs. 
Lovel, kindly. “ It is a sentinel, sir — one that keeps guard, 
and gives notice of the approach of danger.” 

“ I’ve seen sentinels before, plenty of times,” said the 
young man, “ but they always walked on the ground. It 
was that, I suppose, that confused me. It strikes me, how- 
ever, that this is a very capital arrangement^ particularly 
in times like these. Pray, pia’am, do you think it is safe 
for me to leave my luggage with those soldiers there, till 
I find out where they have got to carry it? Are the sol- 
diers about here honest ?” 

Mrs. Lovel assured him his trunks would be perfectly 
safe ; then, leaving'him, they walked on with Miss Latimer 
to the quarters of her cousin, Mrs, Holcomb. 

There was no choice in the ranges of quarters — those of 
the commanding oflScer and the youngest second lieuten- 
ant being alike dilapidated. Mrs. Holcomb’s were neither 
better nor worse, except that they were more carelessly 
kept than those of her neighbors. 

A narrow entry opened into a tolerable-sized parlor, 
furnished with a carpet, a rigid-looking settee covered with 
worn and faded chintz, a square pine table, the homely 
proportions of which were only partially concealed by a 
red-and-blue cotton table-cover, and half a dozen chairs, of 
different sizes and patterns. The open fire-place was filled 
with dry and dusty branches of asparagus, and further 
garnished with all the sweepings of waste paper and clip- 
pings of various colors which had been brushed from the 
floor for — the housemaid only could tell how long. 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

Captain LovePs loud rap on the parlor door was an- 
swered by a “ Come in,’^ in a tone as if no very par- 
ticular company was expected. A rather pretty woman 
was seated in a rocking-chair, busily engaged in fabricating 
a head-dress out of ribbon and artificial flowers, sundry 
boxes of which encumbered the chairs and littered the floor 
around her. 

“My goodness gracious! Grace Latimer, is this you?’^ 
she cried, springing up and scattering her finery in all 
directions, as the smiling face of her cousin peeped in upon 
her. She seized and kissed her with an air of earnest, 
affectionate welcome. 

“ Oh, I am so glad you have come I But who in the 
world expected you just now 

“ Didn’t you ? Haven’t you received your father’s let- 
ter telling you that I was coming ?” 

“ Oh, yes ; but that was ever so long ago. I thought 
you had perhaps changed your mind about it — most people 
are so uncertain.” 

“ No, indeed, not after having promised to come. But 
you know the journey cannot be made in a day, nor a week 
— hardly in a month.” 

“Oh, yes,” with a sigh of discontent, “I know only too 
well how far we are from all that’s worth having or living 
for. Mrs. Lovel, do sit down. How have you been enjoy- 
ing yourself? Delightfully, I suppose — everybody does 
that goes to the interior — and everybody can go except 
poor unlucky me. I’m the only^ne. Well, good-morn- 
ing, then, since you must go. I shall be over soon, to see 
all the pretty things you have brought, and to get a de- 
scription of all you have seen and enjoyed. Good-by, cap- 
tain — I expect, when I see you again, to hear a choice 
collection of stories and anecdotes that you have picked up 
on your trip.” 


118 


MARK LOG AM, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Laughter having chased away her sighs and murmurs, 
Mrs. Holcomb turned to her cousin. 

“ Come, take off your things. Dear me ! is that the 
fashion for hats now ? It looks rather odd — of course it 
would to us, for we never see anything new out. here. 
And your travelling-dress — what do you call this ? Nea- 
politan crape ? It is rather pretty, but I don’t think I like 
it quite as well as pongee. I suppose you’ve brought lots 
of pretty things. What has papa sent me ?” 

“ Oh, you shall see when my trunks come,” said her 
cousin, smiling. “ But where is Mr. Holcomb ? I suppose 
he is on duty.” 

“Duty 1” exclaimed Mrs, Holcomb, in an accent, of de- 
rision. “ The last thing he troubles himself about. No — 
he’s off on some frolic, I suppose. He said the Colonel had 
sent him up to the Kakalin to get what information he 
could about the Indians; but I didn’t believe a word of 
it. It was only an excuse to get off with Barnes, and over 
to Shanty-town with Joe Hollister and that set.” 

Grace was shocked. She tried to answer composedly as 
she remarked, “Ahl if your husband is away, that ex- 
plains how you happened not to hear of the arrival of the 
Uncle Sam, or rather of her being on the bar below.” 

“And who came with you? Anybody; worth looking 
at ? Any young, officers ? Not that I need care, for I am 
never fit to be seen nowadays. I nev^r have anything 
new. When the sutler gets o.m his goods, there is always 
some old bill to be paid before I can take my pick ; and as 
Holcomb regularly makes a fuss and a blow-out before he 
can get his accounts settled, the other ladies contrive to 
help themselves to everything that is worth having before 
I can get a chance.” 

“ Perhaps you will be able to take your first chance now,’^ 
said Grace, with beaming eyes. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


119 


Oh, you don’t say sol Has papa sent me some 
money ? Dear old fellow I Now if somebody don’t get 
come up with ! Not one penny of it will he touch. 1 
warned him of itlast Christmas, when I wanted a beautiful 
pink silk that Scott had just opened — ^the loveliest thing, 
Grace, you ever saw-*^and I couldn’t have it, because be 
had been and spent eVery cent- that he had on supper- 
parties, and frolics, and I can’t tell you what all.” 

“We mustn’t forget, dear, that your husband has the 
household expenses, too^ to settle out of his pay,’’ said her 
cousin, wishing to soothe her. 

“I rather think I know all about those things quite as 
well as you can do,” said Mrs. Holcomb. “ Why should 
it be any harder for him to give me such a dress than for 
Captain Warded to buy it for his wife, and they with three 
children to provide for? I had the mortification ohseeing 
her shining out in it after I had told two or three of the 
ladies that I meant to have it. I put up with it then, but 
I determined in the Easter holidays,- when the officers of 
the mess were going.to give a ball, that I would have 
something new and handsome, if I had to get it on tick. 
I knew he would have to pay for it in the end, and so I 
was goose enough to tell him. What do you think he 
did? Went and gave the sutler an acknowledgment, or 
something of that kind, that the fellow could present at the 
pay-table and draw my husband’s pay on it I Did you 
ever hear of anything so scandalous — so degrading ? Let- 
ting himself down like a common soldier. And the money 
he spends himself for baskets and baskets of champagne, 
and such things, to carouse with at his oyster-suppers 
with the young men I Oh, Grace I I have had everything 
in the world to go through with I” And here Mrs. Hol- 
comb burst into a fit of weeping. Her cousin comforted 
her with hopes of better things in future. 


120 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


“Oh, yes,” she said, with animation, “ I know it will be 
different now— Mr. Charlie Holcomb will find that there 
will be a vast deal of difference. I sha’n’t let him know 
that papa has sent me any money — and, Grace, don’t you 
tell him,. on any account. I shall just go to Scott’s and 
buy what I like, and when he sees me come out in all the 
nice things I’ve bought, won’t he be in a fume ? He will 
post right over to the shanty* to find out if there are any 
bills against him.” 

“ When he finds there are not, he will of course under- 
stand that my uncle has kindly taken care of you,” said 
Miss Latimer. 

“ Of course he’ll ask me if papa sent me this and that, 
and I shall tell him no.” 

“ Then he will be puzzled, certainly — he will think it is 
I who have been making you presents.” 

“Not he — he will know better than that. You make 
me such presents I No, indeed — he will think it is some 
of the young officers — and won’t he be in a tantrum ?” 

“ I should think he would, indeed I But you would not’ 
be willing, Edith, that he should entertain such an idea for 
a moment ?” 

“Wouldn’t I? Indeed, I think it would be perfectly 
fair to pay him off in his own coin. Here he goes off 
frolicking and merry-making, leaving me moping and 
lonely, while he is away enjoying himself — besides squan- 
dering the money that would enable me to make a figure 
like the other ladies I He knows I don’t care for giving 
parties and entertainments — they are expensive, and they 
are a great trouble — but I do care for dressing becomingly 
and as well as other people. That’s one reason why I 
wanted you here — I knew he would be ashamed to act so 


* The sutler’s store. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


121 


niggardly towards me if I told him before you that I must 
have such and such things. Though I must own,’’ said 
Mrs. Holcomb, pursuing her complimentary strain, “ that 
I had not the least idea you would actually come ; and, 
dear me I there are your trunks that the soldiers are 
bringing in I Where they are to put them is more than I 
can tell. If Holcomb had only stayed at home and foOnd 
out that the boat was coming, so that I could have made 
some sort of arrangement !” 

Had they not better be taken right up to my room ?” 
asked Grace, not in the least comprehending her cousin’s 
difiBculty. 

“Your room !” exclaimed Mrs. Holcomb, with a little 
laugh of embarrassment and vexation. “Bless your heart, 
child, I only wish somebody would be so good as to find 
out where that is. Holcomb is entitled to only two rooms 
— indeed, strictly speaking; he has no right to more than 
one — only, as we have not been greatly crowded in the 
garrison, I insisted on the quartermaster’s giving us these 
two — my parlor here and our bedroom. Mrs. Captain 
Warded would have three, on account, she said, of her 
children ; but she has not the least business with them in 
the world. It was shameful in the quartermaster, not 
cutting her down to her allowance. I don’t pretend to see 
how sho gets round Hamilton in the way she does !” 

Miss Latimer said nothing — what indeed could she say ? 
This was a difficulty so unexpected, so unheard-of, in the 
annals of hospitality I 

“ Well, let’s see— something has got to be done, I sup- 
pose,” pursued the mistress, with clouded brow. “ The 
room overhead would be just the thing for you, but Tibbets 
has got that — a nasty, crusty old bachelor ! And you 
might as well expect the commanding officer to vacate for 
your accommodation as old Tib. Then there’s the room 

11 


122 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


back of him — Gaylord has got that ; I dare say he would 
move out of it, however, in a moment, if there was only 
some other place for him to go to. I’ll send right up and 
ask him to come down here, and we will talk about it — it 
is but trying — he can go into a little room there, is vacant 
over in the next set.” 

‘‘ Oh, pray don’t,” said Grace. I had no idea-^I’ could 
not think of such a thing as turning a gentleman out of 
his apartment.” 

“Well, let us hear if there is anything better that you 
could think of, ’’ said her cousin, a little sharply. 

“ Is there no place ? I do not care how small it is — a 
closet, or a garret? Anything will do.” 

“ Yes, I dare say — but unfortunately the anything is just 
what we don’t happen to have. There is, as I told you, 
just this room and my bedroom back of it, with a little bit 
of a seven-by-nine kitchen in the rear ; and there Norah 
sleeps. That is the extent of our quarters. We are as 
well off as most of our neighbors, however. When Mrs. 
Blake had her sister here with her last year, she had . to 
get a piece of furniture -chintz and make a curtain the whole 
width of her bedroom, to divide it off and give Nannie half 
of it.” 

“Even that would be better than intruding upon a 
stranger and turning him out of his room^,” said Miss Lati- 
mer, perplexed and distressed beyond measure 

“ Mr. Holcomb would probably , be very far from coin- 
ciding in your opinion,” said his wife, with dignity. “He 
would not understand not having his room to himself; for, 
in the first place, he requires a good deal of space to rage 
about in when he gets into his tantrums ; and then, to tell 
the truth, there are a great many times when it would not 
be particularly pleasant for you, Grace, to be behind the 
curtain, hearing all that is said backward and forward, for 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


123 


I don^t pretend that we live like turtle-doves always. 
Who would, with all that 1 have to put up with 

Both were silent for a few minutes. Miss Latimer was 
the first to speak. 

“ Has Mrs. Lovel, being a captain’s wife, the same allow- 
ance of quarters as the other lady of whom you spoke ?” 

“ I dare say she has — I presume she takes care of her- 
self. Why ?” 

“Because,” said Grace, beginning to tie her hat again, 
“ I should have no hesitation whatever in asking her to let 
me occupy her spare room. She gave me a pressing invi- 
tation to pass a part of my time with her, and I should much 
prefer asking a favor of her, to adopting any other plan 
that seems to offer. If you will only direct me where to 
find her quarters ” 

“Well, upon my word, Grace, that is pretty, I must say 1 
Papa is at the expense of sending you all the way out here 
to keep me company, and you are proposing to run off and 
stay with somebody else, before you have even got your 
things off I” 

“No, I am not proposing to run off. I can come and 
take my meals with you, and bear you company through 
the day, just the same as if I had my lodgings on the same 
entry.” 

“ No, indeed ; I shall listen to nothing of the kind. Papa 
would never forgive me, if he was to hear of it. I might 
bid good-by to all thoughts of presents or anything else 
from him, for years and years. 1 know how he takes any- 
thing that you are concerned in— one would think you were 
his daughter and I was somebody else. No ; we will man- 
age somehow. > Go into my room now, and take off your 
things, and unlock your trunks. I will have them carried 
there for the present, and I will send for the quartermaster 
and have a talk with him ; we will settle on something.” 


124 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Mrs. Holcomb summoned Norah from the kitchen, and 
sent her to the neighboring* barracks for the soldier who, 
when off duty, fulfilled the office of errand-boy, waiter, et 
cetera. 

“ Conroy, take those trunks into the lieutenant’s room, 
and then go over to the quartermaster’s, and give him Mrs. 
Holcomb’s compliments, and say she would be very happy 
to see Lieutenant Hamilton at her quarters for a few min- 
utes. Now, Grace, you can come in here,” said her cousin, 
opening the door of an apartment in which everything 
stood at sixes and sevens. “You may leave the door ajar, 
if you like — it may give you a new wrinkle, to hear how 
we ladies in the army have to manage to get what we 
want out of the quartermaster.” 

In an incredibly short time Conroy returned; he de- 
livered the reply to his mistress’s message with a cheerful 
air. 

“ If you please, ma’am, the quartermaster sends his polite 
love, and he can’t possibly come, bekase he’s on duty.” 

“His polite love! You are a goose, Conroy — and the 

quartermaster is ” She checked herself. “When you 

bring a message from a gentleman again, remember to say 
‘compliments,’ or * respects.’ What is the quartermaster 
doing ?” 

“ Sitting in his chair, smoking a cigar, if you please, 
ma’am, and talking with Lieutenant Tibbets and a strange 
officer.” 

“ It’s just an excuse to keep away — he knows I want 
something,” muttered the lady. “Wait a minute, till I 
write a note, Conroy.” 

She seized a pen from a dusty inkstand that stood upon 
the table, and; selecting a very dainty little sheet of note- 
paper from a gaily-embroidered portfolio by its side, she 
wrote a few hasty lines : — 


MARK LOG AN, TEE BOURGEOIS, 


125 


“ Mrs. Lieutenant Holcomb—being quite indisposed to- 
day, and unable to call at the quartermaster’s office, in 
her husband’s absence, upon a little business of an impor- 
tant nature — begs the favor of Lieutenant Hamilton, as an 
exceedingly great kindness, that he would step over to her 
quarters for a few minutes.” 

“There, I think that will bring him,” said Mrs. Hol- 
comb, as she showed the missive to her cousin. 

And it did ; for in a few minutes a tall, angular, and by 
no means impressible-looking young officer was ushered 
by Conroy into the apartment. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Mrs. Holcomb had had just time to scramble up her 
stray parcels of finery and thrust them aside ; then, as- 
suming that sort of plaintive air that comported with the 
tenor of her note, she reclined in her arm-chair, and was 
ready to receive her visitor. 

“ Sorry to hear you’re not well, ma’am, was bis rather 
stiff salutation. 

“And I am extremely sorry, Mr. Hamilton,” said the 
lady, blandly, and evading a direct reply, “to have given 
you the trouble of leaving your friends.’’^ 

She laid a slight stress on the last words, for she thought 
it politic to convict him of prevarication in the excuse he 
had sent her. The quartermaster reddened a little, in spite 
of himself, and the lady went on, as blandly as before, — 

“ If it had been possible, I would have waited for my 
husband’s return — he has gone up to the Kakalin on pub- 
lic business, of, I suppose, very great importance. He 

11 * 


126 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


really could have attended to the matter so much better 
than I, that I cannot but regret it should have fallen to 
my share — I am always so exceedingly reluctant to trouble 
a gentleman — but, really, I — it positively makes me quite 
uncomfortable ” 

“ Anything I can do for you, ma’am ?” said the quarter- 
master, pitying what he supposed to be the lady’s embar- 
rassment ; for though often, as his comrades expressed it, 
“pestered out of his wits” by the freakish Mrs. Holcomb, 
he was not an unfeeling man. 

“ Well, I suppose I may as well undertake to explain 
to you,” said the lady, after a moment’s apparent hesita- 
tion, “ how very peculiarly I happen to be situated. I 
think you will understand — that is, you will excuse — the 
case is this. My father. Colonel Latimer — I beg his par- 
don, I should say General La;timer, for he has just been 
brevetted, I learn — General Latimer, of the Artillery, is, of 
course, known to you by name ?” 

“ Perfectly well, ma’am. There is no oflBcer in the army 
to whom General Latimer is not well known, by reputation 
at least. ” 

“Yes, I flatter myself he is generally an object of re- 
spect. Well, as I was saying, he has sent his favorite 
niece — a most charming and interesting young lady, by- 
the-by — out here to make me a short visit,, and to see 
something of the West. Not that there is much to see, as 
you and I well know, Mr. Hamilton, ’^ with an engaging 
laugh. 

“ The post is a very pleasant one, as far as I am con- 
cerned, ma’am,” said Mr. Hamilton. 

“ Oh, for gentlemen, I grant you. They have not the 
thousand-and-one petty cares and perplexities that annoy 
us poor ladies. What I wanted to inquire was, whether 
there is not a vacant room over in the adjoining set of 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 121 

quarters. It strikes me that the front room, over Mrs. 
Level’s parlor, is unoccupied.” 

“ It has been until now, but a young officer, who came 
in the Uncle Sam, has just made a requisition for it.” 

“ Oh, dear, how unfortunate ! Couldn’t he be put in the 
back room on the opposite side ? You see I keep a register 
of the rooms — I have, ever since Mrs. Wardell got three 
rooms, while I was restricted to two.” 

“Mrs. Wardell is a captain’s wife, ma’am.” 

“ Oh, I know that — I am not complaining in the least. 
No, indeed ; I understand military etiquette too well for 
that. But about this back room ” 

“ Well, really, I don’t think that room is fit to be occu- 
pied, ma’am, except in a case of the direst necessity.” 

“ And that happens to be exactly my case. I believe I 
shall have to beg of you the kindness to let me have iU” 

“ Not for a young lady, ma’am, surely ? You would not 
think of Such a thing.” 

“ Oh, no, Mr. Hamilton, not for a young lady,” said 
Mrs. Holcomb, with a sweet smile, “ unless you pay me 
the compliment to class me as such. No, I shall give up 
my own apartment to Miss Latimer, whom I regard as, in 
a manner, the representative of her uncle. Being the wife 
of a humble lieutenant, I have no position to assert; it is 
my duty to yield precedence to my superiors in rank. If 
General Latimer were to come here himself (as I have 
some reason to expect he will, upon his next furlough), we 
should all of us, you know, vie with each other in seeing 
that he was suitably accommodated ; and upon the same 
principle we will pay him the compliment of seeing that 
his niece, his favorite niece, has nothing to complain of. 
Therefore, if you will allow me to occupy the back room 
on the gallery above Mrs. Lovel, I will send over and 
have it put in the best order it will admit of. I suppose 


128 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

I can have a man or two to clean and whitewash it for 
me ?” 

“Of course I would have it put in the best order 
possible; but, really, to go so far away from your own 
quarters to lodge — to be coming and going in all sorts of 
weather ! It is a thing not to be thought of.” 

“ You see, however, that it must be thought of — it is 
Hobson’s choice, as we say,” said the lady, with another 
pleasant smile. “I must go somewhere. Of course, if 
there were a room to be had in this set,; it would be vastly 
preferable. I do not pretend to be very much of a heroine, 
and to insist on travelling back and forth in the hot sun, 
or the rain maybe, to my meals — and in my state of health. 
The affectation of indifference to such inconveniences would 
be simply ridiculous. But, since a room nearer home is 
not to be had, I must show myself the worthy daughter 
of a brave father. I shall at least be able to let him know 
that I have endeavored to profit by his example as well as 
by his precepts. ” * 

“ Well, ma’am,” said the quartermaster, quite touched 
by such magnanimity, “all I can say is, I heartily wish 
my quarters were nearer to you — they should be entirely 
at your service.” 

“ That I have not the slightest doubt of,” said Mrs. Hol- 
comb, with one of her most engaging smiles, “and I do 
not think hard, in the least, of the young officers who are 
over us, for not making us the same obliging offer. They, 
of course, are ignorant of all the circumstances of the case — 
and I could not enlighten them, you know — I could not 
ask favors, or even counsel, of them, as I could of you. 
With regard to Lieutenant Tibbets, I freely confess, I 
think he would be found impracticable. As for Mr. Gay- 
lord, if he happens to have a mother, or a sister, who might 
possibly be one day situated ” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


129 


“Til tell you what I’ll do, ma’am, said the quarter- 
master, more softened than he cared to show ; “ I’ll step up 
and broach the subject to Gaylord ; and, if I can do no 
better, I can at least offer him my room, and lit up the- one 
we were speaking of for myself.” 

And away posted the quartermaster, saying to himself, 
as he mounted the stairs, “How I have misunderstood 
that poor lady I How perfectly disinterested she is I How 
ready to make sacrifices of her own comfort and even her 
health 1 How admirable, too-, hQV CBprit du eoTpa! And 
how exemplary her appreciation of military duty and eti- 
quette I Anything that we bachelors can do is little enough 
in the cause of Such a woman I” 

He knocked at Gaylord’s door, and at the loud, sonorous 
“Come!” he entered, and began to make known his er- 
rand. He went through, by way of preliminary, all that 
) had been said of General Latimer and the representative- 
j ship, omitting, for the present, the charming and interesting 
I qualities of the young lady in question. 

[ “ And do you say there is another room you can give 

me ?” broke in Gaylord, springing up with alacrity. “ Then, 
by George! let’s have it — anywhere and any sort of a 

place. All I ask is, to get away from this — pow-wow 

that is carried bn under me, about three times a week, to 
speak moderately.” 

“Pow-wow ?” said the quartermaster, faintly. 

“ Yes, ’by George I you never heard such a bedlarn-broke- 
I loose as Holcomb and his wife make of it sometime8> I’m 
I often tempted, when it comes pretty near reveille, to pound 
j upon the floor, to let them know it’s time to bury the 
I hatchet; and I would have done it, only that I know the 
I lady would contrive to.pay me off in some way that wouldn’t 
be so agreeable, fq§. she’s as cunning as— well, cunning 
enough to compass her ends, whatever they may be, unless 


130 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


she happens to get hold of you, or old Tib, or one of those 
timber sort of fellows who are a match for her. But what 
about this room 

‘'If I could make that south back room over in the next 
set comfortable for you, would you like to exchange in- 
quired the quartermaster, who would not for the world 
have had his companion suspect how near he had been to 
turning out of his own quarters for the accommodation of 
the admirable and exemplary Mrs. Holcomb. 

“ Like it ? Yes— jump at the chance. Anything for a 
quiet life. Can you get it ready for me in a couple of 
hours? I’ll begin to pack up at once ; for Holcomb is off 
on some sort of a lark, and we shall have it hot and heavy 
when he gets home to-night. So you say madam is going 
to give up her own room to her father’s representative’’ — 
here he looked mischievously at the quartermaster — “and 
take this? Then old Tib will have the benefit of their 
matrimonial explosions. It will hardly cure him of being 
a bachelor.” And the young lieutenant set gaily to work 
to fold up his coats and turn out his various little treasures 
from the drawers of his pine dressing-table, in prejiaration 
for packing them in his trunk and transferring them tb 
more peaceful quarters. 

The quartermaster walked down the stairs more slowly 
than he had come up, and, knocking at Mrs. Holcomb’s 
door, said gravely to that lady, — 

“ Mr. Gaylord will be happy to oblige you, ma’am. He 
will vacate his quarters within the next two hours.” 

“Oh, very well — ^thank you; and another thing, Mr. 
Hamilton — I should be very glad if you would remind him 
to have them put in nice order just as quickly as he pos- 
sibly can, for my cousin— that is; / should like to move 
into them and get settled before my husband returns from 
the Kakalin.” 


MARK LOGANy THE BOURGEOIS. 


131 


There were no persuasive smiles now^ but a careless nod 
in reply to the stiff bow of the quartermaster, as he closed 
the door and marched back to his two friends. 

“ It’s a satisfaction that the room is for her visitor and 
not for herself,” was his consoling reflection. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

“ Well, Grace, what do you think of that for diplo- 
macy T’ said her cousin, triumphantly, as she again joined 
her. 

‘‘ You appear to have succeeded ; but do you really ex- 
pect my uncle to visit you 

“ Oh, he may come here — why not ? He will have to 
have a furlough some time or other, and he can as well 
come here as go, anywhere else.”,: 

“ I seem to be installed as his representative ; it will not 
be thought necessary to fire a salute :in my honor, I trust,” 
said Miss Latimer, a little gravely. 

“Oh, don’t make a fuss about trifles. I had to use a little 
finesse with that impassive piece of machinery. We’ve 
got the room, thank goodness 1 and now the next thing is 
to see about furnishing it. But first, as I see you have 
got your, trunks open, we’ll take a look at the things. I’ve 
been dying to be in the midst of them all the time I was 
waiting for Stiffy to come back and let me know what I 
had to depend upon.” 

Grace took out carefully the different articles of luxury 
and, comfort which a kind , and indulgent father had pro- 
vided for his thoughtless child, and then, opening her pocket- 


132 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


book, she gave her bills to a considerable amount that he 
had sent her. 

Edith glanced hurriedly over the letter which her cousin 
had handed her, before laying the dresses, shawls^ and 
trinkets upon the bed. 

“ Dear papa I He may well say he thinks these things 
will please me. Why, they are perfectly splendid I Grace, 
did you choose them, or did he ? Only one party dress 1 
Well, I shall have money enough to buy more whenever I 
like. Oh, Grace, how I shall make Mrs. Wardell and 
Mrs. Bentley — she’s the Colonel’s wife— die of envy I Mrs. 
Lovel don’t care about those things. Positively, she goes 
so plain that when she calls here I often think she isn’t 
paying me much of a compliment. Don’t you think it’s a 
mark of respect to wear your best when you go to call on 
a friend? I shall do better by her; I shall put on that 
purple silk to-morrow and go and inquire after her health 
and that of the other ladies.” 

She went on opening boxes and untying packages, ad- 
miring or criticising as her taste directed, till a new. idea 
presented itself. 

Bless me, Grace ! I don’t believe you’ve had any 
dinner. I took a lunch just before you came in, for 1 put 
off dinner till Holcomb should get back, perhaps about tea- 
time. Let me see — :What can we give you ? There was a 
nice little piece of prairie-chicken, but I believe I ate the 
last of it ; and as for cake or pie, Norah knows no more 
about making them than the door-scraper does. It is such 
a plague to have such ignorant things to deal with I Mrs. 
Wardell, and Mrs. Lovel, and the rest, always snap up 
such of the soldiers as can cook, and have them into their 
kitchens before the poor lieutenants’ wives can get aehance. 
However, I’m even with them. I never Invite them to 
dine or to tea, and I take care to let them know that It if 


MARK LOGAK, THE BOURGEOIS. 


133 


out of my power, owing to tbe way in which I am served. 
Let me see- — Norah can run over to the. baker’s and get a 
card of gingerbread ; and she might step into Mrs. WardelPs 
and ask her for a pitcher of milk — she keeps a cow, and 
can let me have some, I dare say. Let me have a quarter 
of a dollar, won’t you, Gracie ? The bread-tickets are all 
out, and that man O’Flaherty would send Norah back 
without the gingerbread unless she could pay for it on the 
spot” 

“ Shall I let Norah have enough to buy you a stock of 
tickets, too ?” asked her cousin. 

“ Buy bread-tickets I No, indeed. It’s Holcomb’s busi- 
ness to keep me in bread, if he won’t keep me in decent 
clothes. I told him last evening that I had but two tick- 
ets left; and I’m glad you’ve come, Grace, that you may 
hear me to-night pay him off for not leaving me money, as 
I asked him to, before he started this morning.” 

Grace declined the glass of milk, but made no opposition 
to the proposal to send for the gingerbread; for, besides 
being a little hungry, she began to suspect that it was un- 
wise to commence by dispensing with the ordinary comforts 
of life — Mrs. Holcomb being evidently one who would take 
an ell if the first inch were peaceably yielded. 

“And now about some furniture,” said Mrs. Holcomb, 
as soon as her cousin had dispatched her simple refresh- 
ment. There’s the bedstead and the table — they are fix- 
tures in the room. Gaylord can’t carry them off; though, 
if it was to spite me, I dare say he’d like to. I suppose 
that is all there is ; and goodness knows,” looking around 
the apartment in which they sat, “ there does not seem to 
be much here that could be spared. The fact is, we buy 
as little furniture as possible, we have to move so often. 
From pillar to post, that is the way of it in the army. 
They say the old Secretary sits there at Washington, and 

12 


134 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


if he hasn’t a war on hand, or something of that kind to 
occupy him, he busies himself in ordering a new row of 
buttons on to the uniforms, or a new shape to the fatigue- 
jackets7 or else moves all the companies that are at one 
fort off to another — if in the dead of winter, so much the 
better. I shouldn’t wonder if, as soon as he hears there’s 
trouble up among the Winnebagoes, he should send us all, 
women and children, post-haste into the very midst of 
them. However, that’s neither here nor there — you have 
got to have some bedding,” said Mrs. Holcomb, coming 
back to the point whence she started — “ a mattress, in the 
first place. Ah I I know what we can do. Norah 1” 

The maid put her head inside the door. 

“ Norah, tell Conroy to go to the hospital, and give my 
kind compliments to Dr. Birge, and ask him if he will 
please lend me a mattress for a few weeks.” 

“A mattress from the hospital ?” exclaimed Grace, quite 
aghast. 

‘‘Oh, you needn’t be afraid — Birge knows better than 
to send me any but a respectable-looking one. He knows 
that if he did I would have him out of his bed every other 
night for a fortnight, for some little make-believe complaint 
or other. That’s one good thing in the army— ^you can 
pay the doctor off when you have a grudge against him, 
whatever you may have to put up with from -the other 
officers. Birge will send me the best he has, depend 
upon it.” 

“ But, even then, do you think it would be quite safe- ” 

“ Oh, if you are so squeamish, I can take it myself, and 
give you mine. I have been too long in the army to mind 
trifles. I suppose you would not object to using a wash- 
bowl and pitcher from the hospital ?' Mine are both rather 
the worse for the slight jars which occasionally follow a 
disagreement of opinion between certain people who shall 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


135 


be nameless.” And Edith laughed heartily, the more so 
as hfer cousin’s face lengthened. 

Won’t you allow me,” said the latter, “ to send NOrah 
to some store, and supply myself with the few trifling arti- 
cles I may need in my apartment ? I had no idea I was 
going to put you to so much inconvenience.” 

“ Let me manage, if you please,” said her cousin, with 
an air of dignity. “ Having had some experience in gar- 
rison life, I can perhaps arrange matters better than an 
utter stranger. Norah can run to old Madame Pothier’s, 
outside of the fort, and ask her for the loan of a little bed- 
linen and a few other trifles. She will consider it a great 
honor to b^ able to oblige an officer’s wife — and I will go 
there some evening and take tea with her, to pay her for 
it. Really, I must say Gaylord is wonderfully obliging 
to have got' all his traps out so quick, and Hamilton seems 
resolved not to be behindhand with him. Bid you see the 
fatigue-party come into the entry and go up-stairs awhile 
ago ? A perfect squad of them I Hamilton understands 
that he has got to be on the qui vive when my wishes are 
in question. It would be a pretty thing if a general’s 
daughter had to wait the convenience of an insignificant 
lieutenant! Oh, you’ll see, Grace, that I know how to 
have things done. As soon as we see the men going out 
again with their brooms and whitewash-pails, we will go 
up and try what we can make of your room.” 

To while away the time, Mrs. Holcomb invited her 
cousin again into her sleeping-apartment, where, although 
the heat was intense, and the room had to be darkened to 
shut out the fierce rays of the afternoon sun, she busied 
herself in reinspecting and trying on her numerous presents, 
deciding which dress she would wear at the first dinner 
she should be invited to, and which at the next dance that 
should be given. In this occupation, and the scarcely less 


186 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


coDgenial one of inquiring about old acquaintance^ at the 
East, or complaining about new acquaintances at the West, 
the hours slipped rapidly by, until she was suddenly startled 
by the roll of a drum and a bugle-call. 

“My gracious!” she said, dropping the finery, and 
catching up first one article, then another, with which the 
carpet was littered, “ if there isn’t Retreat 1 I am sure I 
had no idea it was half so late. The fatigue-party must 
have gone out without our hearing them, while we were 
busy talking. Come, Grace, let’s go and see what we can 
make of matters and things iip-stairs.” 

Vehement were the lady’s exclamations of surprise at 
the transformation a few hours had made. in an apartment 
she had expected to find bare and comfortless. Its peiTect 
cleanliness, a few neat Indian mats spread upon the floor, 
a new mattress upon the bedstead, a red-and-bluq, table- 
cover concealing the ink and other stains upon the homely 
pine table, even a small looking-glass and the proper com- 
plement of wash-stand furniture — all showed the thought- 
ful care of the quartermaster for the newly-arriv^ed guest. 

“Upon my word, Grace, StifiPy has outdone himself! 
He knew what was best, if he expected- ” 

She stopped suddenly, for, as she turned, the gentleman 
himself stood at the door of the apartment. 

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said, as unperturbed as 
if he had not heard every word the lady had uttered ; “ may 
I come in with the carpenter to see the mosquito-frames 
fitted to the windows ? . If there is a crack as wide as a 
pin, the gentlemen will wqrk themselves through it, you 
are aware.” 

“ Oh, certainly ; thank you. — how very kind of you ! 
Grace, this is our excellent, obliging quartermaster, who 
spends hi^ life making us comfortaUlo — Lieutenant Hamil- 
ton, Miss Latimer. I am under infinite obligations to you, 


MARK LOUAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 137 

sir, I am sute. Really, we married ladies tax your time so 
severely that ydu hardly find opportunity to secure to your- 
self sonie fair lady of your own.” 

The officer bowed. “ Not at all, ma’am — not by any 
means.” 

Miss Latimer moved towards the door, and^ in passing 
said, with frank courtesy, “ You must allow me to add my 
acknowledgments to those of my cousin.” The lieuten- 
ant waved a disclaimer, but looked gratified nevertheless. 
“ And you must call in and become better acquainted 
with our relative,” said the married lady, graciously. “ Her 
news from the civilised world will be a godsend to all us 
po6r Cxiles.” And having acquitted herself handsomely, 
aind cunningly wiped out, as she flattered herself, the im- 
pression of her ekrlier speech, Mrs: Holcomb took her 
cousin’s arm and left the apartment. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

At an early hour on the following morning every ofBcer 
who could escape from the ceremony of guard-mounting 
was on the alert to take boat and hasten in quest of further 
neWs from the regions On which was now centred the gen- 
eral interek. 

The suhest way to this' end was, to cross the river to the 
homely, bid-fashioned tavern, where the Governor and his 
party had established themselves. Having learned all that 
could there be imparted, the next feasible step would be to 
proceed up the river a couple of miles to Shanty-town, thi> 
most important of the three divisions of the settlement. 
At this point Stobd the warehouse of the Fur Company, 

12 * 


138 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS, 


and in its immediate neighborhood lived many French and 
half-breed families, who, from their connection with one or 
another of the Indian tribes, were always in receipt of in- 
telligence not within reach of the Americans — least of all 
of the military. 

Captain Lytle was one of a party who were loitering 
on the bank of the river, waiting for a squad of soldiers 
to get a boat in readiness ; and as he had some perplexing 
thoughts working in his brain, he drew a little apart from 
his compaiiions and affected to be absorbed in the contem- 
plation of the landscape, which, whether his mind took in 
the fact or not, presented but two features-^the bright, 
sparkling river, from the clear depths of which the crews 
of sundry fishing-boats were already drawing their heavily- 
laden nets — ^and the long stretch of low, monotonous shore 
beyond, dotted with occasional clusters of indifferent build- 
ings, some brown and unpainted, others white or parti- 
colored. 

The gallant captain was again to meet the lady of his 
thoughts, and he had not yet made up his mind what tone 
his manner should take at the interview. He remembered 
that his adieu to her on the preceding day had been tender 
— too much so for him to meet her again with an air .of 
indifference. He felt that it was unbecoming a gentleman 
to trifle — that the time had passed when he could, with 
honor, draw back. He did admire Miss McGregor — he 
admitted thus much to himself — but he rather wished he 
had not made his admiration quite so evident ; for, some- 
how, it had been observed, and his brother officers, at sup- 
per the preceding evening, had quizzed him about it. 
Then he remembered that Dalton had looked annoyed as 
the general verdict had assigned to his friend the fair 
Monica, and this was a triumph only dampened by sud- 
denly observing that Dalton himself was absent, and by 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


139 


catching the remark from Lieutenant Hamilton, in his 
slow, dry way,— 

•‘ Captain Dalton will be ahead of all of us. He got 
Nicole, the half-breed, to paddle him across the river in a 
canoe an hour and a half ago. I wonder if it is to visit 
the Governor that be is abroad so early?” 

“ That is what I call a little underhanded,” was Captain 
Lytle’s mental comment; “but 1 flatter myself it will do 
him no especial good.” 

The piec^ ’of information had the effect, however, of de- 
ciding him what course he should pursue. He raised his 
head from the attitude- of troubled reflection, and was about 
to rejoin his companions, when he observed that an addi- 
tional animation had been given to their discourse by the 
approach of a respectable-looking old gentleman of low 
stature, and dressed, with peculiar neatness, in a summer 
suit of white jean and straw hat with wide-spreading brim. 

The courteous bows and dignified wave of the hand, even 
had they not been followed by the familiar “Bon-jour, mes- 
sieurs,” and a few further complimentary phrases, would 
have announced the nationality of the new-comer. 

“Ah ! here comes Monsieur Pothier,” exclaimed one. 

“ Good-morning, sir 1 You are very welcome. What 
news ?” cried another. 

“What of the Indians ? What are they planning to 
do ?’^ interrupted a third. 

“ Have all the settlers’ families on the Wisconsin and 
at the Portage been murdered ? Are we to be scalped and 
tomahawked ourselves?” followed from other voices in 
rapid succession. 

“ Strange that we have not thought of applying before 
to you, monsieur, who have so much better sources of in- 
formation than we can command,” said Colonel Bentley, 
the commanding officer, who now joined the group. 


140 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Eh bien ! oui, messieurs,” began the old gentleman, 
then added in broken English, with a bow at the compli- 
ment to his resources, “I do know a leetle. Mj wife 
descend last night from de Kakalin — she have been dere 
to veesit her relation, and to take some advice about de 
matter and ting. Wiah-lay-yan Le Forgeron* was at de 
house of her friend. He tell her it all be quiet now, but 
Four-Legs, de Puan’ chief, he never like de American 
too much — and since his people have be kill up near St. 
Pierre, he feel pretty hugly. Le Forgeron all right — les 
FolP Avoines,'!' dey keep quiet — old Osh-kosh and I’Ours 
Affreux, him you call Greesly Bear, he all right too. He 
talk to his young men — tell dem to keep friends wid de 
^Mericain always.” 

“Ah 1 Old Grizzly Bear ! good for him !” cried Captain 
Lovel. “ But how happened it that Holcomb did not bring 
us this news last night, instead of reporting that he had 
learned nothing of importance ?” 

The little Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Perhaps de news cannot be picked up over on de oder 
side, where de lieutenant friend leeve.” 

“Ah I I thought so. I doubt lyhether the party went 
a foot beyond the Agency, yesterday,” muttered the com- 
manding officer. “Are they ever coming with the key of 
the barge ?” he asked. 

“ It seems Holcomb carried it to his quarters last night, 
and his memory does not serve him this morning to say 
what he did with it,” was the reply. 

One of the officers, more impatient than the rest, walked 
briskly back to the fort to aid in search of the missing key, 

^ The Blacksmith — a Menompnee chief, as were Osh-kosh and Gjizzly 
Bear. Four-Legs was a Winnebago. 

f Polles avoines is the wild rice— ^a name given by the French to the 
Menomonees, as Puans (polecats) is to the Winnebagoes. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


141 


and, seeing that matters were thus for a few minutes at a 
stand^still, Captain Lytle drew a little apart with M. 
Pothier, and took occasion to introduce a new topic, 

“ It would be a good idea, I think, to go up to M, Ber- 
thelet’s, where the Miss McGregors are, and learn whether 
any late information has been received by them from the 
seat of the disturbances.’^ 

“ The daughters of McGregor — they are then here 

“Yes. Do you know the family ?’? 

“ If I know them ? Certainement. , I winter on de Mis- 
sissippi many years ago— McGregor was den my head man 
. — chef. His wife, Espagnole, so beautiful, belle, belle — 
she was une Puante.” 

Captain Lytle started. An expression of unconquerable 
disgust stole over his face— he had not before heard the 
sobriquet in its fullest repulsiveness. 

“One should ask pardon for serving himself wid one 
such hugly name, but it is de fashion of de country from 
de early time. De Winnebago, dat is, de Ho-tshung-rah 
brave, do always wear de skin of dat most disagreeable 
leetle bete on dere war-costume. Wid long familiarite, we 
do not be so sensible of disgust — we lose de impression.” 

But not so Captain Lytle. He repeated the name, 
muttering it between bis teeth with a feeling of loathing. 

“ It is to be regret’,” said M. Pothier, apologeticiilly. 

“ Rather a disadvantage, certainly, to any young lady 
to whom it may happen to attach,” remarked Captain 
Lytle. 

“Oh, for dat, I hardly tink. Dey tell me she has of 
beauty and education — Miss McGregor. Den her papa 
can give her so many kegs 1” Thq old gentleman held up 
his spread fingers. 

“Kegs?^’ 

“ Eh ! certainement — cer-taine-ment ! Kegs of dollars 


142 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


and half-dollars. Noting can be sweeter as de silver, we 
know. It is de parfume dat please de young so well as 
de old. It pukde shine on many ting. And Mc- 
Gregor have of dis nice leetle commodite beyond all count 
— in his magasin — in his cave — in de Bourse at Quebec* — 
at New York. His daught’ can buy one husband, two 
husband, ten husband if she so please.’’ 

“ Come, Lytle, we are all ready at last. M. Pothier, 
will you take a seat with us ?” cried Captain Level. 

But the talkative little Frenchman "excused hims'elf, not 
being, as he said, in a toilet to pay his respects to the 
Governor or the young ladies. 

Captain Lytle was obliged to depart, with the particulars 
he so longed to hear only half told. A portion of that 
which he had received, however, furnished food for rumina- 
tion, and the cud of his fancy was less and less bitter the 
more he masticated it. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

They found the Governor Seated on the piazza of the 
quaint, rambling old tavern, holding, or rather endeavoring 
to hold, “ a talk” with a couple of Indians whose costume 
and general appearance indicated less familiarity with the 
traders’ “ shanty ” than did those of the few ill-conditioned 
Menomonees, or the more respeetable-ldoking Waubana- 
kees, who formed a part of the surrounding group. 

The most excited person in the company was the Com- 
missioner, who, at one moment seated, at the next rising 
to whisper a question or a suggestion to the GovWnor, the 
secretary, or even to the wondering natives tlxemselves. 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 14 3 

was endeavoring, in vain, to make himself master of the 
situation. 

“ Well, Ewing,” the Governor was observing, as the 
military party reached the porch, “I cannot say I make 
out much of what our friends here wish to communicate. 
They speak neither Chippewa nor Menomonee, and as 
Bazin here understands no W innebago, which is their lan- 
guage, we must look about for an interpreter. Who is 
there in the settlement that can fill that ofiQce for us?” 

“Madame Berthelet is a Puan’,” suggested Bazin. 

“And Miss McGregor, who is at her house, may per- 
haps know these Indians,” added Ewing. 

The brow of Captain Lytle contracted into almost a 
scowl at this remark. 

“To Madame BertheleCs, then, let us go,” said the 
Governor. “Judge,” to the landlord, “can you let us 
have some sort of a conveyance ? My canoe is yet on board 
the steamboat, down below.” 

“ Make use of my barge, sir, I beg,” said the command- 
ing officer ; “and, if you please, allow us to add ourselves 
to your party. I am quite impatient to learn what these 
Neechees have to tell, for I confess I do not much like the 
aspect of affairs.” 

The offer was accepted, and, beckoning the two strange 
Indians to follow him, the Governor seated himself in the 
barge, which, impelled by the stout arms of a crew of sol- 
diers, in a short space of time traversed the. three miles to 
the little settlement of Shanty-town, and landed the party 
on the dock of the Company’s warehouse. A short walk 
brought them to M. Berthelet’s. 

It did not enhance Captain Lytle’s tranquillity to per- 
ceive his friend Dalton just driving from the door with 
Lieutenant Gaylord, who had obligingly borrowed a horse 
and caleche from Judge Tedder, the landlord; still less 


144 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


refreshing was it to think that both were doubtless at this 
moment chuckling at having thus stolen a march upon him. 

Madame Berthelet, though somewhat overawed by a 
visit from the Governor and the commanding officer of the 
Fort, yet acquitted herself in welcoming them and their 
attendants with a grace natural to her mingled French and 
Indian blood; while the two Winnebagoes, on their part, 
gave way to the most lively demonstrations of satisfaction 
at finding, thus unexpectedly, both friends and acquaint- 
ances. They poured forth to Miss McGregor a harsh, 
guttural stream of delighted communication, expressive 
of their joy that the - obstacles to the fulhlment of their 
mission were now removed. 

The young lady ventured a glance at Captain Lytle, to 
observe the impression This scene made upon him. .She 
detected that his fastidious taste was offended, but she did 
not allow her composure of manner to be disturbed. With 
perfect simplicity she presented the two envoys by their 
French appellations, — 

“ Le Bras Pique— Le Tonnerre Jaune” — names which 
the Governor recognized as conspipuous on . the pay-rolls 
of their nation. 

“ Yes, yes,” he said, with a shake of the hand of each, 
“ Spotted Arm and Yellow Thunder — both heads of vil- 
lages — I remember them well. Letusall be seated, if you 
please, and we can then hear what they have got to say.” 

But what the chiefs had to say was not for the public 
ear — it was for the Governor alone, and so Miss McGregor 
was obliged to inform him. 

‘‘ It will then be necessary for us to retire for awhile, to 
receive their communication. And I suppose we shall need 
the services of both these ladies — Madame Berthelet to 
render the words of these chiefs into French, and Miss 
McGregor to translate again into English ; foi’ although I 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


145 


do tolerably well in ordinary conversation, it is important 
that, in a case like this; every word should be given its 
full significance!^’ 

Fortunately for Captain Lytle, no one alluded to the 
fact that Miss McGregor alone would have been a compe- 
tent interpreter. 

The apartment into which the selected few were ushered 
was the only other one of suitable dimensions which the 
modest dwelling could boast— -it was the bedroom of Ma- 
dame Berthelet. It was. neatly and tastefblly arranged 
according to the fashion of the country, its otherwise simple 
furniture being set O0* by a toiletdable draped with a pet- 
ticoat of tamboured muslin over one of pink cambric ; a 
counterpane and pillow-cases of patchwork, in which flow- 
ers, birds, and butterflies, cut from brilliant chintzes, were 
fancifully arranged upon a groundwork of white cotton ; 
while a rosary of large black beads, with crucifix attached, 
symbolizing the presence of a guardian angel, hung upon 
the bedpost in close proximity to the spot where the head' 
of Madame was wont to repose. 

So preoccupied was. the Governor that he came near 
committing a terrible pas at the outset; for, seeing 
but one table in the room, and that covered with work- 
baskets, piles of sewing, and the various other articles which 
a notable mistress of family keeps ready for her handiwork, 
he was about, before taking the proffered arm-chair, to lay 
his light straw hat upon the bed, and thus to ofler the 
direst affront — nay, insult — that can be given in a French 
frontier menage. As it was no unusual thing at that day 
for the best bed to form a part of the parlor furniture, 
scenes of very aggravated feeling, and even action, vVbiild 
sometimes occur in consequencd of the thoughtlessness or 
ignorance of a stranger-guest. 

The Governor was saved from a consummation so little 
13 


146 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


to be desired, by the quickness of Ewing, who, with a 
swoop, possessed himself of the obnoxious article, while 
by some happy pleasantry he succeeded in replacing the 
angry sparkle in the eyes of. the hostess by a gracious 
smile. 

The communication of Le Bras Pique and Le Tonnerre 
Jaune was to the following eifect : — 

That, their tribe having learned the intention of Govern- 
ment to hold a treaty with the Menomonees for the pur- 
chase of a tract of their country, at which, according to 
custom, a large quantity of presents would be distributed 
to clinch the bargain, a portion; of the Winnebagoes, for 
griefs of their own, had banded themselves together in a 
plan for falling on the whites as soon as they should be 
assembled at the Butte des Marts, the proposed treaty- 
ground, to massacre them without respect of persons and 
to appropriate the spoils. 

“Are the Winnebagoes, then, so evil disposed? And 
what are the; griefs of which they speak?” asked the 
Governor. 

“ Chiefly that which befell their people on the Upper 
Mississippi, when the crews of the boats carrying stores 
to the United States troops at the fort above, enticed the 
wives and sisters and daughters of some of our chief men 
on board, under pretext of trade, and then hurried away 
with them up the river — that when, two weeks after, the 
boats on their way back were visited by the relatives of 
those who had been so carried away and outraged, the 
husbands and brothers, in their efforts to rescue theni, 
were themselves attacked and killpd — the Government 
never interfering to punish the murderers. They say, too, 
that the Big Knives come upon their hunting-grounds and 
drive away their game, and that they must fence in their 
country before matters get as bad as they are with their 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


147 


neighbors the Saakies and Mus*qua-kees, whdm the squat- 
ters and diggers are intruding on more and more. And 
finally, the chiefs Kau-ray-mau-nee and Hoo-wau-nee-kah 
say that nowthe trouble has begun, and things have already 
gone so far, it- is possible there may be more bloodshed, 
which they would like to prevent — so they thought it right 
to send and warn their Father and the Commissioners to 
turn back, and not come into the Indian country to hold a 
treaty at this time.” 

“Things gone so far! What do they mean by that?” 
inquired the Governor. 

The Indians looked at one another, as if undecided what 
answer to give to the question as interpreted first by 
Monica and then by Madame Berthelet. After a moment’s 
pause, Le Bras Pique spoke ; — 

“ Has not a little bird been singing in the ears of our 
Father and the Big Knives? Have they not been told 
that white scalps, fresh stripped from the crown, are hang- 
ing in the lodges of some of our young men ?” 

“ Tell them I heard, but did not believe, the story. Tell 
them I did not think the Winnebagoes would be such fools 
as to tempt punishment from their Great Father the Presi- 
dent by such acts. Experience should have taught them 
the folly of such deeds. In whose lodge do the scalps 
hang?” 

Again the chiefs looked at each other, and the Spotted 
Arm -glanced at Miss McGregor — it was Le Tonnerre 
Jaune who spoke : — 

“ The Big Knives say they are in the lodge of Wau-nig’ 
sootsh-kah.” 

Miss' McGregor turned pale as death, but she promptly 
exclaimed, iu a tone of scorn and indignation, — 

“ In the lodge of the Red Bird ? Impossible 1 impos- 
sible !” while Madame Berthelet echoed, — 


143 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“Pasvrai ! pasvrail Wau-nig-sootsh-kah ? L’Oiseau 
Rouge ? Qui est-ce qui ose Pen accuser 

Miss McGregor had clasped her hands as in anguish, 
and again she cried, “ The Red Bird was ever the friend 
of the white man — he was so called in scorn by his people. 
He was the bravest of the brave— he could never stoop to 
be a murderer of the defenceless.” 

The Spotted Arm gave her rapidly the particulars of 
the murder of certain members of a family of French set- 
tlers in the vicinity of her own home — -of the father and a 
discharged soldier shot and scalped — of an infant scalped 
and tomahawked — of the wife of the settler wresting the 
gun from one of the party and escaping unharmed to give 
the alarm. And these particulars she was obliged to trans- 
late to the Governor, as well as to reiterate the desire ex- 
pressed by the principal chiefs to be recognized as friends 
to the Big Knives, and to be held clear of any complicity 
with ;tbeir misguided brethren. 

The Governor listened to all, pondered a few minutes, 
and then, after commending the friendly spirit and peaceful 
intentions which had prompted this mission, he said, — 

“ Tell Kau-ray-mau-nee, and such of the other chiefs as 
have it at heart to remain friends, to be at the Portage on 
the fifth day from this. They shall hear from me there, 
and know my mind. Ewing, I will trouble you to write 
out, for Le Bras Pique and Le Tonnerre Jaune, an order 
for as much tobacco and provisions as they can carry back 
with them — and then, if you please, see that they set olF 
for the Portage immediately> I suppose there is no danger 
of their errand transpiring, seeing that nobody in the set- 
tlement can understand their language. It is j>ot worth 
while to throw the whole community into a panic which 


* “ Not true ! not true ! The Red Bird ? Who dares accuse him of it ?" 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


149 


may be uncalled for ; I shall therefore beg the ladies to 
keep the matter a secret for the present. I shall impart 
what I have learned to no one but Colonel Bentley j and I 
recommend to all present to be equally prudent.” 

The conference over, the Governor and Madame Ber- 
thelet returned to the parlor, where they were assailed with 
anxious questions as to the news brought by the Winne- 
bagoes. 

The Governor answered cautiously that they brought 
messages of friendshipand good will from Kau-ray*mau-nee, 
Little Elk, and others , of the principal chiefs, who hoped 
that if there were any in the ttibe disposed to be quarrel- 
some or mischievous they would, soon be brought to a 
better mind. 

“ But what about the people at the Portage and on the 
Wisconsin 

“ They are all safe, as far as I can learn.” 

“I felt pretty sure it would all turn out a hoax,” said 
Captain Lovel, who, with the exception of Mr. Smithett, 
had been the most frightened of all the heroes in the gar- 
rison. “There is poor M. Rivard insisting on turning 
right back in the Uncle &am, to make sure of saving his 
natty little wig, I suppose. Hal ha I As if the red-skins 
had not learned by this time better than to be playing 
their pranks so near our bayonets I M. Tremblay, you 
and I can have some comfortable games of euchre to- 
gether, yet.”' , ^ 

As the young secretary entered the little hall on his 
return from the errand with which he had been charged, 
the Governor went to meet him, and drew him again into 
the apartment of Madame Berthelet. Monica was still 
there, seated in a-ehair by the window, plunged in gloomy 
abstraction. The Hovernpr, regardless of her presence, 
proceeded to give his orders to his secretary. . 

13 * 


160 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


'‘I wish you, Frank, to get M. Berthelet to select me 
the best picked crew of voyageurs for my canoe — they 
must be men of no common powers of endurance,' for I 
have a long voyage to make and but little time to make 
it in. They must be furnished with a week’s provisions, 
for there will be no time for coolcing or anything of that 
sort upon the route. Our good landlady, Mrs. Yedder, 
will pack my mess-basket ; fortunately, all things but meat 
and bread are already in it. You will remain here for to- 
day, my boy, and see that all things are in perfect order — 
I do not fear to trust you where voyaging is concerned.” 

“ Do I go with you * ' 

“ No — you will have to stay and keep guard Over the 
goods and silver which are to be distributed at the treaty. 
I shall recommend to Colonel Babbitt to amuse himself 
as he can until my return. He will find somebody to 
victimize, I do not doubt. Have all things made ready, 
and come down to my quarters this evening, ufter dark. 
By-the-by, have a couple of small tents~one for me and 
Elliot, and another for the men.” 

‘‘And when do you start, sir?” 

“ I must be off by daybreak to-mOrrow morning. People 
W'ill understand that I go up to Winnebago Lake to talk 
with Four-Legs, and that possibly I may push across the 
lake for a conference with Osh-kosh and Grisly Bear. To 
you and Miss McGregor alone I impart my plan, which is, 
to hurry on to the Portage, and thence, if necessary, to 
Prairie du Chien, to look into the matters which are dis- 
turbing us.” 

“ To the Prairie? Oh, sir,” cried Miss McGregor, earn- 
estly, “ would it be possible for you to take me along with 
you ? If I could but go at once I If I could but see him I 

— that is— I think I could perhaps uid by my counsels 

I might do some good ” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


161 


“My journey could not possibly be accommodated to 
the convenience of your tender sex,” said the Governor. 
“I must go like the wind, in swiftness and silence. Even 
if you could yourself endure the hardships, your young 
and delicate sister coul^ not.” 

“Ah I true — Madeleine — yet could she not — but, alas I 
no— -I must not leave her. My father would never forgive 
me, neither would hejf I subjected her to undue fatigue 
and exposure. Ah I if our boats w^re only here!” 

“I doubt, my dear ypung lady^ whether your interpo- 
sition would be of apy avail. It is to the head chiefs that 
we must look to regulate these matters. . As for the young 
chief Red Bird, if he be really guilty,’ counsel to bipi, as 
you must perceive, is, no longer to be thought of, unless it 
be a recommendation to surrender himself and submit, to 
the punishment due his crime.” 

“ He is not — he is not, guilty I I would stake my life^ 
on his innocenc^. 1 know his noble charact^f so well !” 

“ Let him be tried by the laws, then, and prove his inno- 
cence. His best friends would counsel him to do that, 
rather than subject his nation to the horrors which I fear 
now menace them.” , 

Such were the Governor's concluding words as he again 
turned to rejoin the party in the parlor. 


152 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Monica went directly to her own apartment She could 
not; in her present frame of mind, make one of the cheerful 
circle in the parlor. All thoughts of Captain Lytle and 
his fastidiousness, or of Captain Dalton and his devotion, 
were alike put to flight by the news she had heard. She 
had been flattered by their attentions, she had been proud 
of what she had imagined her power over them, she had 
been willing to show to those' around her that her lineage 
and her early associations had no power to detract from 
the, superiority which her natural endowments conferred; 
but no sentiment of her heart had for a moment been 
touched, and the present storm of grief and distress^ swept 
away even the remembrance of soft speeches and looks of 
admiration. 

She had met with a terrible blow. Red Bird, the friend, 
the lover, of her youth — her ideal of all that was grand and 
noble — ^the one to whom she looked to sustain the honor 
and dignity which were so fast departing from her people, 
had fallen from his high estate. He was to be hunted and 
punished as a prowling assassin. She had, it is true, years 
ago, given up, in obedience to her father’s will, all thought 
of uniting her fate to his. Her mother had counselled her to 
this sacrifice, and had sustained and comforted her in making 
it; yet she had never lost the feeling of admiring homage 
with which she had, from her childhood, regarded one so 
exalted in character and so amiable in heart. The romance, 
the passion had not passed away — he was her darling still. 

When the visitors had taken their leave, and Madeleine 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


153 


went to seek her sister, she found her lying on the bed. her 
face covered from the lighWtbe Indian fashion of brooding 
over a sorrow. 

“ Monica ! What has happened ? Are you ill ? Are you 
in trouble ? Won’t you speak to me ?” she said, tenderly 
taking her sister’s hand. “ Oh, Monica!” she shrieked, as 
a sudden thought flashed across her, “ have you had bad 
iiew.s from hpme ? Has anything happened to dear papa ? 
Oh, tell me I tell me !” 

“ No, no ; do not give way in this manner. iNothing is 
the matter — nothing, at least, to cause i/om trouble. I have 
heard that some of the M^innebagoes up above are a little 
restless — a little inclined, to be troublesome ; that- is all.” 

Miss McGregor arose, and by an effort such as her own 
people alone know how to conpnand, bathed her face, 
arranged her hair, and resumed her customary composure 
of manner. Her sister looked at her, unconvinced by her 
words. 

“Whatever trouble there is among them,” she said, “ we 
can do nothing, I suppose. Here we are — powerless,” 

“ Yes, here we are,” assented her sister, in an impatient 
accent, '' and-here we are likely to be. It is very ^strange 
that the boats dos not arrive. That paragon, Mr. Logan, 
seems to be tired of his reputation for promptness and 
energy !’^ 

“You remember that the next day after we parted with 
the boats was Sunday.; Perhaps the bourgeois did not 
travel on that day,” said Madeleine. 

“Not travel? Do you take him for a puritanical New 
Englander ? Do you suppose he set the men down to read 
tracts and study their catechism ? I rather imagine him 
to be one of those whom they call Scotch-Irish. He has 
all the look of it; and they are a sort of people not over- 
burdened with scruples of conscience when once they get 


154 


MARK LOGAN, THE LOURGMtS. 


out into the wild wo6ds. •’ This unnecessary -‘delay only 
confirms mein my opinion/^ said Monica, bitterly. 

“ Perhaps he was under the impression that we were to 
remain several days at the Bay, and as the early part of 
the voyage had been so fatiguing to the men — ^ ” 

“We can amuse ourselves with any variety 6f conjec- 
tures — it will all amount to the same thibg^ — he is not here 
at the moment he is wanted. And it will be a very serious 
matter if he does not arrive to-day.” 

She said this in so gloomy an accent that Madeleine was 
more than ever convinced that something was being with- 
held from her. 

“I am sure I hope he will come, then,” she replied, 
earnestly. “ Perhaps if be arrives in good season to-mor- 
roW it will not make so much difference.” 

“ Perhaps not,” said her sister, and she sufferted the sub- 
ject to drop for the present. She seated herself at a 
window which looked down the river in the direction of 
the Bay, straining her eyes to discern, if possible, the ap- 
proach of the longed-for little fleet. Madeleine, knowing 
that any further offer of sympathy would be annoying 
rather than consoling, went to a side window which gave 
a view of the Company’s warehouse and its surroundings. 
The silence of a few minutes was broken by her remark,— 
“Why, Mr. Ewing did not go back with the Governor 
and his party. He is giving presents to those Winneba- 
goes, I think. The engages are bringing heaps of things 
out of the store. Now he is trying to talk with them by 
signs— they seem to understand his gestures. If they are 
going directly back, Monica, don’t you think they would 
carry a letter for us, to tell papa we are here ? I dare say 
they could get it carried down the Wisconsin,” 

A new idea flashed into the mind of Miss McGregor at 

these words. She started up hastily. 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


155 


*‘I will go and see them,^’ she said. Then, catching up 
her calash and parasol, , she added, in a low. tone, and as if 
involuntarily, “ I can send a message — what a blessing I’’ 
With that sh.e hastened away. 

Though the language in which she addressed the two 
chiefs, when she arrived upon the dock, was a sealed book 
to Mr. Ewing, he^ with prompt delicacy, moved away, and 
left the young lady to her interview. Her words were 
brief and emphatic. 

“Where now is the Red Bird?’^ 

“At the Barribault.” 

“ Why is he not at Tay-shobree-rah,* his home 

“ He has no home at Tay-shob-ee-rah.’.’ 

“ Is he hiding for shame 

“No; he is not ashamed.’^ 

“ Does he glory in his deed 

“No; he is sorry. for those who were slain. He says 
the Frenchman was ;a good man ; it was wrong to kill him 
and the soldier. He has nothing more to say.’^ 

“ Did Day-kau-ray and Nau-kaw ask him why he killed 
them? And what did he answer ?’’ 

“He said, ‘Ask Wee-kah.’f Day-kau-ray is away on 
the Mississippi:’ ■ 

“Wee-kah was with him ? The meanest and worst 
Indian in the trihcj there but two of them ?” 

“ There were three.” 

“Who was the third?’/ 

“ Wau-nig-sootsh-kah| does npt tell.” 

“ Nor Wee-kah ?” ^ 

“ Wee-kah never opens^is mputh— -he answers no ques- 
tions,” , . : • . 

“ You will go to the Barribault ?” 


* The Four Lakes. 


t The Sun. 


t The Ked Bird, 


156 


MARK LOG AM, THE BOURGEOIS. 


** Yes, to deliver the message of our Father to Nau-kaw.’^ 

“Then give a message for me to Wau-nig-sootsh-kah. 
Tell him that in eight days from this I will be at Wau- 
wau-arn.* He must meet me there. The one that arrives 
thei*e first will wait for the other. Bid him not fail — here, 
carry him this as a token.” 

She tore from her neck a bright-colored ribbon, which 
she had worn in the fortn of a scarf. Wrapping it in her 
pocket-handkerchief, she gave it to “the Spottfed Arm,” 
and watched till he had placed it carefully in his smoked- 
skin pouch. 

“ Tell him,” said she, ” it is from Espanola.” 

The two savages laughed heartily as she made first one 
and then the other pronounce the not quite unfamiliar 
name. 

“ Spar-rol-yah — very good.” 

^^Will you be at the Portage in three days?” 

“ Yes, we can Walk ; or, if w6 wish, we can get horses at 
Ma-zhee-gaw‘gaw^s village, and again at Lake PuCkaway.” 

“ Take care of my token, and do not forget ray name — 
Espanola. And now hurry away ; for there is no time to 
lose.^^ 

She shook hands with both, and saw them depart before 
she turned' and again sought her apartment. 

Madeleine' was' still standing by the window where she 
had left her. 

“ So you sent papa a certain token that these people had 
seen you,” she said. “I think I could have written a few 
lines during the time you were talking ; but it is all the 
same — he will hear from us and know that we are safe. 
I hope you gave him all sorts of tender messages from me 
too.” 


* The Portage. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


157 


Her sister murmured some indistiact reply. She would 
have been unwilling to confess that not one thought of her 
father, or of the anxiety that he might suffer at the knowl- 
edge that hostile savages were upon the path which his 
children must travel to reach him, had, for a moment, 
entered her mind. 

She could not sit down in her sister’s company to medi- 
tate, for Madeleine, with her heart so occupied >yith home 
and her beloved parent, would be annoying her, with. ques- 
tions or remarks to which she would find rejoinder difficult. 
It ^vould be less of a punishment, she felt, to bestow her 
company on Madame Berthelet, and to listen to an un- 
ceasing stream of havardage meant nothing, even 

though it had the Governor, the officers, Le Bras Pique, 
and Le Tonnerre Jaune for subjects. 

This good lady had, however, but little time to chat, for 
there were first, the . duties of hospitality towards young 
Mr. Ewing, whom M. Berthelet . had invited . in to their 
mid-day meal^next, there was the customary afternoon 
nap, which cOuld on no ordinary occasion be , dispensed 
with — and lastly, there were guests, to receive ; for, even 
before the sun had sunk so. low in the western sky as to 
make a course up the river really comfortable, Mrs. Hol- 
comb had ordered a boat, sent an invitation to the young 
stranger, Lieutenant Stafford, and, at her cousin, ’s instance, 
to Mrs. Lovel also, to join them, and, arraying herself in 
one- of her prettiest new dresses, had set out for an excur- 
sion up the river to Shanty-town to call on the two fair 
sisters. ... 


U 


158 


MARK LOOAN, THK BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Madeleine had much of interest to impart to her friend 
Grace. All that she had learned of the state of the country 
through which they were to travel — the visit of the two 
Winnebago chiefs — her sister’s anxiety for the arrival of 
her father’s boats — and her own dread lest there might be, 
in reality, more imminent danger than Monica seemed will- 
ing to admit. 

“ But you surely will not persevere in going while such 
a state of things exists I” remonstrated Mr. Stafford. 

“ I believe we are to set off in a few hours after the boats 
get here,” said Madeleine. “ We may, possibly, not meet 
again after to-day, dear Grace, but I shall only say au re- 
voir, for I have your promise to visit me in my own home 
before you return to the East. The route by the Missis- 
sippi will be far easier, and equally pleasant with that by 
the Lakes; and there can never be long wanting a suit- 
able escort back to New England when once these troubles 
are over.^’ ■ 

Madeleine spoke of “these troubles” with an air. of such 
calm philosophy as quite to surprise her friend. 

“ What a change has come over her !” she said to her- 
self. “I wonder if it is occasioned ^simply by familiarity 
with the thoughts of danger and a sense of the necessity 
that may arise for entire self-reliance, or whether it is 
that her sister, now that she is among friends and ac- 
quaintances, relaxes somewhat from her rigid guardianship, 
and gives Madeleine’s innocent nature the liberty of a freer 
expansion 1” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 159 

Changes had come over others besides Madeleine. Mrs. 
Holcomb was all graciousness and all hospitality, seeming 
to incline to establish the younger Miss McGregor as a 
first favorite. Not since her arrival had her cousin seen 
her in so cordial a humor. She had, just as her party 
were leaving the Forb been profiered the escort of Lieu- 
tenant Holcomb himself, who in the course of the preced- 
ing twenty-four hours, by some alchemy which Grace could 
not exactly understand, had become transmuted into “ the 
best-hearted fellow in the world — one who was always 
on the watch to give his wife pleasure— an escort whom 
Grace might rely upon, if at any time she felt disposed for 
a ride on horseback or a picnic at some one of the most 
frequented places in the neighborhood”— the very names 
of which made Grace shudder. 

During the visit an allusion to out-of-door exercise fur- 
nished Mrs. Holcomb an occasion for the following: 

“You ride on horseback, of course, Miss McGregor? 
Then you must come to the garrison, and I will lend you 
a delightful little animal, that I have just been gallantly 
presented with. I have not seen her yet, but I am told 
she is a most exquisite creature. Her name is Lady. Oh, 
I should be so delighted to see you in the saddle, and to 
have your opinion of the taste of a certain gentleman I” 
And she looked beamingly at her husband. 

“So it is true that you won Hollister’s little mare, yes- 
terday ?” said M. Berthelet, abruptly. “Poor Joel He 
should stop playing ^ poker.’ It is not So long since he' 
lost his boat to you.” 

M. Berthelet, along with a very perfect English accent, 
had adopted a little of the English' bluffness of manner. 

“ No man should nev’ play de poker till he know how,” 
remarked M. Tremblay, seutOntiously. 

“ That excellent Joe I” pursued M. Berthelet. “ He 


160 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


will havB to travel on his legs after this — he has nothing 
left to transport himself in.” 

“Well, I shall win nothing more from him,” said Hol- 
comb; “ I am going to quit playing. IVe quite made up 
my mind.” 

“ You stop at the safe point,” said the old Frenchman, 
who, upon the whole, was, not fond of the military. “ Poor 
Joe! Yes, his good friends may all quit playing — there 
is nothing left for them to win.” 

The officer pretended not to hear. He began a series of 
questions to Mr. Ewing, thus effectually interrupting a 
conversation which that young gentleman was endeavoring 
to hold with Miss Latimer, whom he had not before seen 
since they left the Uncle Sam. 

When the visitors were about departing, the ladies were 
earnest in pressing the sisters to visit them on the follow- 
ing day. But the dinner with Mrs. Lovel, and the evening 
with Mrs. Holcomb, were alike declined, 

“ 1 will do myself the pleasure to call to-morrow, when 
I go to make a short visit to our old acquaintance Madame 
Pothier,” Miss McGregor said. 

“ Oh, Madame Puck-y, the best old creature 1” cried Mrs. 
Holcomb ; “ and such an invaluable neighbor 1” 

“ I have so little time at my disposal,” explained Miss 
McGregor, “it being a matter of the most signal impor- 
tance that we should be off as soon as possible after our 
boats arrive.” 

A few more, expressions of regret were civilly offered, 
when Mrs. Lovel suddenly remembered a piece of infor- 
mation. 

“ Your friend M. Rivard is still quite lame. Miss Made- 
leine. The Captain (meaning her husband) saw hirii at 
Vedder’s, this morning, and the poor old gentleman is so 
discouraged, first with his accident, and now with these 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


161 


Indian troubles, that he has given up his journey to the 
Mississippi, and has determined to return in the Uncle 
Sam to Detroit.” 

Madeleine’s face lighted up. “Now,” said Miss Lat- 
imer, interpreting her thought, “ you will have a fine op- 
portunity of writing to those dear friends.” She looked in 
vain for the blush and shade of* consciousness she had 
expected. Madeleine’s reply was as calm and simple as 
possible. 

“ Yes, indeed j I shall most gladly avail myself of it — 
but I am so sorry for poor M. Rivard I I wonder if I could 
get some one to drive me down to Judge Yedder’s, to take 
him my letters and messages ?” Then, changing the sub- 
ject, she inquired of her friend, “Have you seen Mr. Smith- 
ett since your arrival ? I am a little curious to know how 
he bears a confirmation of these warlike tidings, which he 
seemed not to relish too well when they were doubtful.” 

“ Poor Mr. Smithett !” said Miss Latimer, with a com- 
passionate smile ; I passed him this morning on the pa- 
rade-ground, walking by himself in a disconsolate sort oi 
way. I accosted him, and invited him into my cousin’s 
quarters. ‘ Oh,’ said he, in a whipped-schoolboy tone, ‘ I 
mustn’t go anywhere — am under arrest ; and my limits 
are just between my own room and the mess-hall, along 
this side of the square — just where I have to pass in full 
view of the stocks, and a drunken soldier with his head and 
arms fastened in it — a most disgusting and unpleasant 
sight.’ ” 

“ Why, what had the poor young man done ?” inquired 
Madeleine. 

“ The question I naturally asked him. He informed me 
it was the.no/ doing something that had got him into 
trouble. ‘Just because ,1 didn’t go and call on the com- 
manding officer,’ he said— ‘ reporting for duty,, they call it. 

14 * 


162 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


I took it for granted tliat if the colonel wanted anything 
of me he would send and let me know. How could I sup- 
pose that it was etiquette for a stranger coming into a 
place to make the first call ? They never do anything of 
that kind in New York?” 

Madeleine laughed. '‘Of course you could do nothing 
but condole with him 

“ Oh, but indeed I did— much more. I went, without a 
moment’s delay, to Captain Lovel, and begged him to take 
the poor young fellow under his charge and teach him to 
be an ofiScer. I am afraid I have spoiled the sport of some 
of his comrades — I have no doubt they were up at the 
windows of their quarters, amusing themselves at his dis- 
comfiture as he was forced to pass the hateful instrument 
of punishment. They will see him there no more, for Cap- 
tain Lovel waited on the commanding officer and explained 
Mr. Smithett to him, whereupon he was released from 
aiTest and put in a way of learning his duties.” 

Lieutenant Stafford had, throughout the whole visit, 
been trying to exchange a few further words with the ob- 
ject of his admiration, but Mrs. Holcomb contiuved to 
monopolize him from the moment when her saddle-horse 
ceased to be a topic of interest. He could only gaze from 
time to time at the fair, sweet face, framed in its luxuriant 
golden-brown curls, and wonder, as he compai’ed it with 
the dark, wizened little visage of Madame Berthelet, 
whether the two could be of the same race — possibly of 
the same lineage. 

On the whole, the visit, from which the iyoung officer had 
hoped much, was passing off rather unsatisfactorily. Not 
so with Lieutenant Holcomb. Having been nettled at the 
comments of M. Berthelet upon the losses of his good-na- 
tured neighbor, Joe Hollister, he had passed the last fifteen 
minutes in cudgelling his brains for some mode of paying 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 163 

off the old Frenchman. The result was a sudden address 
to the young engineer oflQcer : — 

“ Stafford, when you have finished your survey of the 
river and the bay, -shall you make a map of the tract sur- 
rounding your explorations 

“ I suppose; of course,’! replied Stafford, a little absently. 
“ Why 

“ Because I would suggest that no one can better give 
you the names of all the little localities around here than 
our friend M. Berthelet — he is, we may say, quite the grand- 
father of the place. Ue can introduce you to Hell Creek, 
and Devil River, and Upper Hog-Rooting-j-the place we 
have now the advantage of being in—and Bower Hog- 
Rooting, where Judge Vedder resides. Yon perceive that 
the early settlers were fasUdions in their choice of names — 
doubtless, they had a, reason, ’^ 

“Truly the settlers now have,” exclaimed M, Berthelet, 
to whom the place and its belongings were as the very 
“ cockles of his heart” — “ a good reason, too. When some 
of our good friends from the other side come among us to 
grub round and turn up a little quclqu’^chose to help out 
the poor little pay their Uncle Sam allows them, the poor, 
foolish people here call it rootivg. These visitors root 
below, they root above ; they turn up maybe a horse, maybe 
a canoe, — who knows ? We, did not ourselves invent the 
employment, neither bring in the animals that practise it.” 

M. Berfhelet sniffed, and looked around defiantly. 

“ Come, come, Holeomb, you are too bad I” cried his 
wife. “ What’s the use of bringing up disagreeable things ? 
Don’t mind him, M. Berthelet— -I shall give him a good 
scolding when I get home.” Saying which, she, with much 
bustle, marshalled Mrs. Lovel and her cousin to the door, 
and forthwith into the street. 


164 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTEH XXL 

The next day the n^ws' was spread abroad that the Gov- 
ernor, with Major Elliot, his elder secretary, and a picked 
crew of voyageurs, had started in a canoe at early dawn — 
some said for the villages of the great chiefs Four-Legs 
and Osh-kosh ; some, the Portage; others, the Mississippi. 

The whole settlement was, naturally, in a state of ex- 
citement and alarm, particularly as, spite of all precautions 
to insure secrecy, it had transpired that murders had 
actually been committed at the Prairie, and that the per- 
petrators of the bloody deeds, who, it was affirmed, were 
Winnebagoes, had come up the Wisconsin, with the inten- 
tion of rousing up their brethren to further hostilities. 

Boats and canoes were flying up and down the river, 
W'hile vehicles and pedestrians were rushing to .and fro, 
to a number and with an eagerness never before seen within 
the memory of man. 

Nothing seemed more probable than that these despera- 
does should t:ake their way through the Green Bay settle- 
ment in their route to the Chippewa country, either to seek 
allies in their meditated outbreak, or an asylum should the 
avenger prove too strong for them — for it was to the Chip- 
pewas that they would look for aid and fellowshiji, not to 
the peaceful Menomonees, with whom Government was 
about to make a treaty. 

Miss McGregor was waited upon with anxious inquiries 
by the frightened inhabitants. 

“ She had lived in the ‘immediate neighborhood of these 
people,” they said; “she knew their characteristics ; she 
might even be personally acquainted with the chief actors 


MARK LOGAK, THE BOURGEOIS. 


165 


in the blo^^dy tragedy. What was her opinion ? Would 
all the Puans show themselves equally savage ? Must each 
settler feel that his scalp was safe only so long as he abode 
under the protection of the guns of the Fort 

Then every one had a story to tell, of atrocities in which 
some friend, or friend^s friend, had been the sufferer; and 
the narration of these was, as a general rule, accompanied 
by reflections so little complimentary to her red brethren, 
that Monica had infinite difl&culty in preserving her ordi- 
nary stoical composure. 

Wearied and harassed almost beyond the power of en- 
durance by the stream of visits and questionings, Miss 
McGregor hailed with joy the hour when the sun had suf- 
ficiently declined in the west to make tolerable a passage 
down to . the Fort, and to the dwelling of her friend Ma- 
dame Pothier. 

She had invited Madeleine to accompany her, but re- 
ceived without comment or objection the excuse of long 
letters to be written and sent to Quebec by the hand of 
M. Rivard. The attentions of young ofiBcers to her sister 
being, as she persuaded herself, no longer a thing to be 
feared, Monica was quite willing to leave Madeleine to the 
quiet disposal of her own time. 

Madame Pothier had nothing new to communicate. She 
made no allusion to the events which formed the subject 
of the mission of Le Bras Piqu6 and Le Tonnerre Jaune. 
She doubted ‘whether any trouble among the Puans would 
grow to more serious proportions — her relatives the Me- 
nomonees felt no fears. They were very anxious for the 
holding of the treaty— not that they wished to part with 
their lands, but since, sooner or later, they would have to 
be relinquished, it was more convenient that they should 
themselves have the benefit of the money and goods to be 
received in payment, rather than that the next generation 


166 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


should enjoy them. That a bird in the hand is worth two 
in the bush, is a maxim of wisdom probably as* tersely 
expressed in the Menomonee dialect as in our vernacular. 

The occupants of the garrison being, equally with the 
less heroic, portion of the community, constantly on the 
look-out for news, it was soon known that M. Berthelet’s 
boat was at the dock, and by the time Miss McGregor’s 
visit to Madame Pothier was ended, she was provided 
with the escort of her two rival admirers, as well as of 
several other officers. 

In passing into the fort under the large gate-Way whfch 
conducted between the guard-houses, she cast one more 
anxious look over the distant waters of the Bay. All was 
clear and calm as a Sabbath morning. She heaved a sigh 
of disappointment, which was almost immediately echoed 
by a triumphant shout from M. Tremblay, — 

“ Les voila I Dere dey come 1” Amd, turning in the direc- 
tion his finger indicated, she descried, near the opposite 
shore of the river, the objects of her solicitude. There, 
indeed, they were ! 

How rapidly, each as if striving for the goal in a raCe, 
were they propelled over the waters I Monica almost 
fancied she could hear the “ whoop-la” of the' bourgeois as 
he encouraged the rowers to put forth their best efforts, 
that they might bring up in style at their desired haven. 
Her heart bounded with joy. 

“Now we shall be off at once,’^ was her exultant 
thought. “ No more delay— I shall reach him in time I 
But how provoking that I should not have been there to 
receive the men — to praise them for their labors and thus 
encourage them to fresh efforts I Madeleine will never 
think of such a thing — she will be too much occupied with 
her letter to her friend Clara, and messages to the darling 
brother I I must repair the omission and bind the young 


MARK LOG AM, THE BOURGEOIS. 16^ 

bourgeois to my service by showing him how much I ap- 
preciate, and how confidently 1 rely upon, his services.” 

All remembrance of the manner in which she had 
disparaged the young man a few hours before had van- 
ished from her mind ; she was alive only to the hope of 
accomplishing speedily the object she had in view. The 
future was beginning to wear a brighter aspect. Her con- 
tentment of spirit gave an added charm to her manner. 
She had cheering and comforting words for those who were 
oppressed with fear — sparkling repartee for the rival as- 
pirants to her favor — gentle courtesies for the hospitable 
ladies of the garrison, who were tendering her every civil- 
ity- — in short, she so perfectly enchanted the whole circle 
that Captain Lytle and Captain Dalton felt, each, that he 
could with the most lively satisfaction hear his friend 
ordered to take the head of a command and march, incon- 
tinent,. against the scalping, tomahawking savages beyond 
the Ma-zhee-gaw^gaw.* 

It was nearly dark when Miss McGregor and her trusty 
squire reached Shanty-town. Tea was waiting for them, 
and so was Madame Berthelet, with her little budget of 
what had taken place during their absence. 

“Eh; b’an ! so the boats have come, and now we must 
lose you. And to think you were not here to see them 
arrive ! So splendid as they came in ! Such a fleet of 
them I And the men looking so nice and merry I The 
bourgeois himself with the oars at the head — and such a 
voice as he called, 'Avarice ! Avance P and the men doing 
their best to keep up with him I oh, superbe, superbe I 
And the bourgeois such a true gentleman — so comme-il- 
fautl” 

“- You have seen the bourgeois, then ? Of course, though, 


* A formidable swamp on the borders of the Winnebago country. 


168 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


he would call to pay his respects — that is, to make his 
report to me. He was disappointed, doubtless, at my 
absence.” 

“ Oh, for the chagrin, I do not know — me. I only saw 
him as he passed in at the door. It was your sister who 
received him, and he stayed a long time — to give the his- 
tory of his trip, I suppose — some people like so to talk — 
and Miss Madeleine is so gracious 1” 

Miss McGregor smiled. 

“ It was truly gracious in Miss Madeleine,” proceeded 
madame, “ to talk with the bourgeois, l^ot that she ad- 
vised herself to invite me in to hear his account. It might, 
perhaps, have been no treat to me ; I have heard of voy- 
ages up from La Marriale before. But I happened to be 
going through the garden during his visit, and by a little 
glance in at the open window I could see him sitting and 
making his report. He was treated with that much of re- 
spect that he was not kept standing. I might, if I had 
been so mean as to listen, have heard every word he was 
saying — but it would have done me no good, seeing that it 
was ail in English, which is a language I have never 
troubled myself to learn.” 

And the hostess, puckering her little, baked-apple face 
into a self-complacent smile, trotted off to the kitchen, leav- 
ing it a point unsettled whether it was by a glance in at 
the open window that she had ascertained the bourgeois’ 
conversation with Madeleine to have been carried on in 
English. 

“ So, Madeleine, you had quite an interview with young 
Logan, the bourgeois, in my absence ?” said her sister, as 
she gained her apartment, where Madeleine sat at the win- 
dow which looked off towards the warehouse and dock. 

The color mounted in the young girl’s face at words 
which sounded like an accusation. 


MARK LOG AM, THE BOURGEOIS. 169 

“ Yes/’ she said, “ he was here. Of course his first iu- 
quiiy was for you.” 

“ His first ? His only one, I should think. What could 
have given him the idea of coming to talk with you ? He 
must understand his place. I did not suspect him of a 
proneness to take liberties.” 

‘‘ Perhaps he did not think it a liberty, since he had an 
errand,” said Madeleine, with some Spirit. 

“And what errand, pray, can the bourgeois of the en, 
gages have with you^ You have never before interested 
yourself in matters belonging to the boats.” 

“ He came to restore me a letter I had dropped at his 
camp the day we were at Pottowattamie Island. Perhaps 
it did not occur to him that he was doing a forward or pre. 
suming thing.” 

“ Oh, very well, if that was all ; but there is no occasion 
to act as his defender. I am glad, upon the whole, that 
you had an opportunity of being civil to him. We shall 
both have to speak him fair, and the men too, to insure 
their taking us the rest of our journey in the shortest time 
possible. Did you tell him how impatiently we had been 
waiting for the boats ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And asked him what kept him ?” 

“ No — for he told me at once that they were not able to 
come a direct course across the Bay as the steamer did, but 
were obliged to coast along the shore, which made the dis- 
tance much greater.” 

“ I hope you have the mosquito-frame in the window — 
if not, we shall be devoured to-night. I have never known 
these creatures so tormenting, even on the Wisconsin. At 
the Port, the gentlemen and ladies were obliged to keep 
a currant-bough in each hand to beat them off as they 
walked.” 


15 


ItO MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

“If she has brought herself to talk civilly to the bour- 
geois, that will be a great help,” said Monica to herself. 

As soon as tea was over, Miss McGregor, escorted by 
M. Tremblay, walked forth to take a survey of all things' 
animate and inanimate in which her father’s, not to say 
her own, interests were concerned. 

The “ men’s house” was a long, low building, in imme- 
diate proximity to the magasin, as the warehouse was 
called. Here the engages took their meals when on shore 
—the hivernanfs, or old experienced voyageurs, at a table 
by themselves — the novices, or mangeuvs de lard, congre- 
gating together in a separate mess. 

The men were at this hour seated, enjoying the comfort- 
able fare provided for them, and which was doubly grateful 
after their protracted rations of corn and tallow, a prescrip- 
tive allowance of which composed their unvarying bouillon. 

Each man rose as he became aware of the presence of 
his master’s daughter ; each, with instinctive French po- 
liteness, tugged at his forelock and thrust out a foot behind ; 
and each one to whom Miss McGregor addressed some 
slight word of salutation, prefaced his reply with a depre- 
catory “Excusez la politesse.” 

Monica made friends with all, so much so that from 
more than one was heard the murmur, — 

“Ah ! if mademoiselle comes among us to be our hour- 
geoise, won’t we take off our heads for her ?” 

All this was in the highest degree satisfactory; it only 
remained to inspire with the like enthusiasm the clerks, 
one of whom had the especial command of each boat of the 
little fleet. These were just now absent. Their toilet made, 
as old Michaud explained, they had, one and all, walked 
out for recreation, or to call on some old friend or acquaint- 
ance to whom they had been recommended. 

The clerks of the Fur Company were, for the most part. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Ill 


young men of good families of the larger Canadian cities, 
or from the United -States, who were apprenticed to the 
Compatjy for a term of years—gerierally till they should 
reach the age of twenty-one. Each looked forward to 'the 
day when he might become a chief clerk, or perhaps, event- 
ually, a partner in the ‘Company ; and, buoyed up by such 
a hope, each was prepared to bear cheerfully whatever 
hardships might fall to his lot in the ordeal through which 
it was necessary for him to pass. Whether at the head 
posts- superintending from fifty to a hundred engages, allot- 
ting them their supplies and furnishing them their outfits, 
or whether assigned to the charge of some trading venture 
and sent for lorig^ months td a distant point, isolated from 
all society save that of their employes or the savages, — 
deprived, as it sometimes happened, through failure of 
transportation or some other unforeseen cause, of all farina- 
ceous food, and compelled to live, the winter through, on 
fish and maple-sugar alone, — the cheerfulness and energy of 
spirit with which they first set out sustained them through 
all vicissitudes, and carried them on, if not to the goal of 
their hopes, at least to a climax of preparation for making 
their mark in other spheres of adventure. 

One characteristic-of these young men has been much 
remarked by strangers, particularly by foreign travellers— 
the fact, namely,, that, so far from becoming rough and 
coarse under the exposure and associations incidental to 
their service, they were, as a class, noticeable for the grace- 
ful ease and courtly refinement of their manners. Even at 
this day we hear it said, — 

“ What a well-bred man is H, or K, or M I” And then 
comes the answer, “ Certainly ; he was brought up in the 
American Eur Company 

These young men had, we may remark, one great ad- 
vantage. The chiefs of the Company who dwelt upon the 


172 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


frontier were polished gentlemen, and it was with them a 
matter of Conscience to supply to their clerks, at such times 
as their duties or their leisure brought the latter within 
the sphere of their influence, the advantages of, the homes 
they had quitted, and to inspire them with an ambition to 
use every means within their reach for their personal and 
intellectual culture. 

The clerks had occasional vacations at Christmas, or 
when the winter hunt of the Indians was over; and at.such 
holiday times they were accustomed to repair to the estab- 
lishment of the nearest prominent trader, where, with a 
hearty welcome, they were made partakers in whatever 
recreation was within reach of the secluded circle. 

These Indian traders were the aristocracy of the land — 
a kind of lords of the vast, sparsely -peopled manor, sur- 
rounded by their dependants, and receiving the homage 
alike of white and copper-colored. They, gathered around 
their homes all that was possible of the luxuries and em- 
bellishments of civilized life — books and music and refined 
employments — while the less intellectual sources of domes- 
tic comfort, the products of the, farm and the garden, the 
delicacies of the stream, the wood, and the prairie, helped 
to make up the holiday feasting which was to form a com- 
pensation to those whose lot it had not been, for long, weary 
months, to “ fare sumptuously every day.’’ 

Oh, the frank, joyous frontier hospitality of fifty years 
ago I The reality, almost the remembrance of it, has passed 
away ; and what is there in the scrambling, toiling, work- 
a-day age that has succeeded, to compensate for its loss ? 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


173 


CHAPTER XXIL 

As Monica had expected, M. Bertbelet brought the 
young bourgeois to breakfast the next morning. It was a 
’matter of coiirse that he should be invited to a place at the 
table Of the Agent, while overseeing the preparation of the 
men for the remainder of the voyage. 

“Shall we get off this afternoon?” inquired Miss Mc- 
Gregor. “ Madame Berthelet has kindly undertaken to 
have our mess-baskets packed and ready for us by twelve 
o’clock at furthest.” 

“I am afraid the men will stand out for their customary 
holiday,” replied Logan. “ They have made such unwonted 
efforts of late, and the weather has been, and continues to 
be, so intensely hot, that I confess I feel reluctant to push 
them- too far. I doubt if anything will eventually be gained 
by setting out under a cloud of discontent, or while a part 
of the crews are incapacitated by the carouse which they 
regard as their prescriptive right. 

“ II faut s’y resiguer — peoples mus’ be patient,” said M. 
Tremblay, pleased that he should not lose his chance of a 
new game, which Captain Lovel had promised to teach 
him on his next visit to the Port. 

Miss McGregor shrugged her. shoulders. 

“ Then to-morrow morning, with the earliest dawn ?” 
asked she. 

“ I think so,” said the bourgeois. “ The clerks, with 
Michaud and myself, and such of the men as will keep 
sober, will try and have matters in such a state of forward- 
ness to-day that there will be no delay in the morning. 
Fortunately the weather is so dry and fine that but little 
32 * 


lU 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


of the loading has been removed from the boats but will be 
sufficiently protected by the prelarts which have been 
stretched over them. The arrangement of my own boat 
so as to insure tlie'cftmfort of the, ladles,, is the chief thing 
we have to occupy ourselves with this forenoon.” 

This was to M. Tremblay^' but it did not escape Miss 
McGregor that the yowng bourgeois glanced at her sister 
as he said it* . She 'Was a little annoyed that Madeleine 
took no notice of what was so , civilly said ; it was acting 
too literally, she thought, on her own hint of the eyenipg 
before. 

“My sister and myself are infinitely obliged tp you, 
Mr. Logan,” she said, with a gracious air. “You will 
understand that in a crisis like the present, speed^the ut- 
most celerity possible-r-is the object Giat; we have most at 
heart. If we can only reach the Portage in a week’s time,” 
-^she spoke with ,e.mphasie-^then, recollecting herself, she 
added, .“and from thence to the Prairie, I shall be so 
happy — we shall be so grateful — my father will not know 
how to express his thanks. But I will not detain you 
longer; I feel thatjevory moment is precious.” 

The bourgeois took his leave, and Miss McGregor ad- 
monished her sister of the wisdom of repacking her trunks 
and baskets at once> before the heat of the day should make 
such an occupation too laborious. 

“Remember, we must put everything that we shall be 
likely to need during a ten days’ trip in our two smallest 
trunks, for our heavy luggage must go in one of the other 
boats with the merchandise. Our changes of clothing, 
books, and work, all must be as compactly disposed as, pos- 
sible ; and even then we shall not have too much room.” 

“ My portfolio and writing-desk will ;take, up but little 
room ; and I suppose I can take my guitar ?” said Made- 
leine. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


It5 


Monica reflected a moment. 

“ Yes, yes,” she said, “ by all means take your guitar — 

anything to ” She did not finish her phrase, and 

Madeleine hardly knew whether her sister was really be- 
coming more indulgent than she had hitherto shown her- 
self, or whether trouble and anxiety made her forgetful. 
She could not help observing that she was excite4, restless, 
quit^ unlike her usual self. Even after her things were 
packed, and she had placed her thick walking-shoes and 
large parasol side by side, ready for the following morning, 
she seemed unable to settle down to any employment. 

“ Shall you go and call on the Miss Bertrands inquired 
Madeleine. 

“No, no; I can go nowhere. Why, should I go and 
call on them 

“ Because you promised them yesterday. Don’t you 
remember ?” 

“No, I remember nothing, think of nothing, but getting 
away from here. Oh, if the boat^ could only have arrived 
yesterday morning, we should have been on our way by 
this time !” 

“Perhaps it is all for the best. You know we are told 
that all things shall work together for good.” 

“Yes, no doubt,” said Monica, with a scornful laugh. 
“If we lose our scalps we can comfort ourselves with the 
certainty that some young brave will bless the chance that 
has detained us here.” 

Her sister looked at her in alarmed wonder. 

“ I thought you were not afraid, Monica. Do you think, 
then, we are running such a risk ? If so, had we not better 
wait yet awhile ?” 

“Wait longer? What an idea! No, I am not afraid. I 
only used that illustration to show you how vain it might 
be, in some cases, to trust to your philosophy.” 


176 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


*Mt is the philosophy of the Bible,’’ said Madeleine, in 
a low voice. But Monica did not choose to hear. She 
preferred going to inspect the progress of affairs in Ma- 
dame Berthelet’s department — to suggest sundry little in- 
dispensables, which she feared might have been forgotten, 
as necessary contents of the mess-basket, and to urge the 
preparation of an abundant supply of all the luxuries, since 
the bourgeois would make one at their table throughout 
the voyage. 

Madeleine had found means, by the promise of a silver 
half-dollar, to bribe a little half-breed neighbor of Madame 
Berthelet’s to ride his pony to Navarino with a small 
package for M. Rivard, containing her letter to her friend 
Clara and a farewell note to himself. She would have 
been glad to go to the Fort for a final adieu to Miss Lat- 
imer, but, as her sister frowned at the proposal, she let the 
subject drop. 

The bourgeois did not make his appearance at dinner, 
which Monica accbunted for by supposing him occupied 
with the proper arrangement of the boat in which she and 
her sister were to travel ; and, as she had no further ques- 
tions to ask, nor suggestions to make, his absence was not 
a matter of consequence. 

I only hope he did not take Madeleine’s silence for 
pride, and imagine himself de trop,^^ she said. “It will be 
very unfortunate if he happens to take freaks into his head. 
We must both be particularly courteous and attentive to 
him. Everything now depends upon him.” 

The afternoon wore on ; the excitement of anxious feel- 
ing, added to the oppression of the debilitating heat, giving 
to both sisters a feeling of languid discomfort. 

So far, indeed, were they from cheerful, that they started 
with something like pleasure at the jubilant announcement 
of M. Tremblay, who, as usual, was on the qwi vive. 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


117 


‘ Ah! ah I dere comede barge from de Fort — two, tree, 
four officier. Now my friend Mr. Captain Level shall 
show me his leetle game. And de young ofiBcier shall be 
ablb to say his adieu to mademoiselle once more.” 

But the barge did not contain either Captain Level or 
the younger gentlemen. To the surprise of Miss Mc- 
Gregor, Colonel Bentley, accompanied by the two ofiBeers 
next in rank, and the post-adjutant, were ushered into the 
little parlor. 

The errand of the fcommanding officer was soon ex- 
plained. Having been apprised of the arrival of the boats 
destined for the Misvsissippi, he bad thought it incumbent 
upon him to take information of the nature of the supplies 
about to be transported in them through the Indian coun- 
try. Confirmation had been brought to him of what he 
had already suspected, namely, that fire-arms, powder, 
even whiskey, formed a part, and no inconsiderable one, 
of the cargoes. As the hazard would be imminent of the 
whole venture falling into the hands of the excited and 
already hostile savages, who were doubtless perfectly well 
apprised of the intended advent of the boats, and would 
be on the lookout to take possession of them, Colonel 
Bentley had decided, as a military precaution, te lay an 
interdict upon the departure of the little fleet, at least until 
the return of the Governor should assure him that tran- 
quillity was restored. 

This announcement fell like a thunder-bolt upon Miss 
McGregor. She had esteemed the detention of a single 
day an affliction almost too great to be borne-— now she was 
about to be chained for two, perhaps three, weeks in an 
inaction which might prove most calamitous. 

' For a moment she sat as if paralyzed, her face assuming 
so ghastly an expression of woe that Madame Berthelet, 
who had not taken in the sense of the commanding officer’s 


178 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


communication, was absolutely terrified, and murmured, in 
soft accents of astonishment, — 

“ Tsha-ko-zhah, Mau-nee-kah nee-grah 

Miss McGregor, with a supreme effort, subdued her 
emotion. 

“ The officers do not, perhaps, recollect,’^ she said, in 
the sweetest, blandest tones she could assume, “ that I am 
of the same blood as the people whose depredations they 
fear — that both chiefs and young men would sooner 
go on the war-path, trusting only to their oWn bows and 
arrows, than to touch ammunition or aught else that had 
been placed in w?/ charge, and belonging to one whom they 
look up to with such veneration as they do the Yellow- 
Head, my father.” 

“ No, you say rightly, madame, the officers do not recol- 
lect that,” said Colonel Bentley, with a laugh which he 
intended should soften the unpalatableness of his persist- 
ence. “ They are alive only to a fact which all experience 
proves — that the Indians, when once their blood is up, are 
very apt to forget the ties of relationship, and help them- 
selves to whatever is necessary to carry out their diabolical 
schemes. You, my dear young lady, may be their very 
good cousin in the times of treaties, and payments, and 
distributions of all the good things, that Uncle Sam pro- 
vides for his red children ; but I fear that, as with the 
crowned heads across the water, the entente cordiale of our 
native monarchs is reserved for occasions when it can bring 
neither loss nor inconvenience.” 

Miss McGregor struggled to suppress her rising feelings. 
She knew that it was politic to manifest no irritation at 
this reply ; she therefore contini^ed with as much calmness 
as she could command, — • 


*■ What is it, little Monica? 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


179 


“ I can assure you, sir, I know well the person whose 
hostility you probably most dread. I was brought up in 
relations of the niost intimate friendship with him.;” Her 
voice lost a trifle of its steadiness, as she said this. “ In- 
deed you are mistaken if you suppose that there is 
danger from him more than from the older chiefs of the 
tribe.” 

You must pardon me, Miss McGregor, for expressing 
my hope that you will neither now nor at any other time 
be compelled to trust your safety to the tender friendship 
of the bloodthirsty young chief to whom you doubtless 
allude—the Red Bird. I could not answer it to my^own 
conscience— i could not answer to your respectable father 
— ^if I suffered you to pursue the mad scheme of throwing 
yourself and your interesting young sister into the very 
jaws of destruction;’^ 

“ Then you are determined to. detain us here for the pres- 
ent?” asked Miss McGregor, piteously. 

“I must .assuredly do so. I sent up a messenger this 
forenoon to the person who has charge of the boats — the 
bourgeois^ as you call him— to apprise him of the resolu- 
tion I had taken. He came down to wait upon me, and, 
in your interest, I suppose, argued, the point well in his 
endeavor to move me. A fine young fellow he seems to 
be; but in a matter of duty one must not listen to per- 
suasions. If it were not so, your wishes, my dear young 
lady, would be all that could be required.” 

“And what,” said Mt^s McGregor, who could not quite 
control the flashing of her eye, “ what if, upon reflection, 
1 do not consider myself restrained by your, prohibition, 
but resolve to prosecute my journey ?” 

•“If I believed such a measure meditated, I should be 
under the necessity of, sending a detachment of soldiers to 
superintend the transfer of the cargoes of the boats to M. 


180 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Berthelet’s warehouse, and to set a guard over the whole 
establishment till the time of the Governor’s return.” 

JBe spoke so resolutely that Miss McGregor deemed it 
wisest to pursue her opposition no further. She merely 
said, — 

“ I shall not subject you, sir, to any such trouble. Your 
soldiers may, possibly, be needed for other duties. My 
sister and I will submit to what, you are pleased to call a 
military necessity, and strive to render ourselves as harm- 
less and insignificant as two solitary, helpless maidens 
may.” 

.'vThe leave-taking of the commanding officer after this 
sally was rather distant and formal — it was met with a 
degree of hauteur on the part of Miss McGregor. M. Trem- 
blay, between his fear of offending the young ladies and 
his dread of losing the hospitalities of the garrison, was in 
a pitiable state. of perplexity, now bowing with French 
politeness to the military officials, now stiffening himself 
into an attitude of dignity as he caught the glance of re- 
proof which was directed towards him by the young lady. 

“ You shall please tell Captain Level,” be began, “ noting 
in particular, I tank you”— rsuch was his parting message 
to his euchre-playing friend. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

“ Do not; wait tea for me, if you please — I am going for 
a walk,” said Miss McGregor to Madame Berthelet, as, 
aiTayed in hat and scarf, she, soon after the departure of 
the officers, passed out at the front door. 

M. Tremblay bustled forward to offer his escort, but the 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


181 


yoting lady repelled him. Madeleine understood at a 
glance that she wished to be alone. It was her custom 
when anything troubled her. 

She was a little surprised, however, to see her, instead 
of choosing th^ path along the river-bank, turn into an 
unfamiliar street, or rather lane, at right angles to the high- 
road, and leading over a range of elevated ground which 
the inhabitants, dignified with the name of hill. On this 
rising ground had formerly been reared some military works, 
and it was still known as Camp Smith. Whether from a 
certain peculiarity of soil, or from some other cause, it was 
proverbially the place most exposed to thunderbolts pf any 
in the whole country. Tradition reported many lives sud- 
denly cut short within its precincts ; and perhaps it was 
for this reason ,thai few and scattered were j-hp humble 
dwellings which broke the uniformity of the umbrageous 
magnificence which covered, its summit. 

Into one of, its vistas, which was, in fact, hardly mpre 
than a pathway, Monica turned, and plunged into recesses 
which the timorous citizens of the_ place would, have fan- 
cied peopled at this mpment with savage enemies. 

But Miss McGregor knew no fear. Her heart, was 
swelling with anger and disappointment, and she only 
longed for solitude and an undisturbed communion with 
her own thoughts. She seated herself upon a fallen tree — 
it was scathed and shattered by the same force that had 
prostrated it. 

“ Like my hopes !” she said.; “like everything I set my 
heart upon — torn, and blasted, and cast to the earth j” 

: She bad no time, however, for lamentations ;,,s.he, must 
rouse herself, and ponder what, in this, new emergency, 
was to. be done. The Bed Bird, whom she had summoned 
to meet her at the Portage — what would be the effect of 
this delay upon him? Would he come at her bidding, and, 

16 


182 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


not finding her at the appointed place, would he seek her 
elsewhere, and in so doing betray himself to those who 
would treacherously give information and seal his destruc- 
tion ? There were always around trad ing-hb uses, such as 
that at the Portage, hangers-on, mean Spirits who, by 
feigned words, were ready to make merchandise even of 
their fellow-creatures. And Wau-nig-sootsh-kah was now a 
marked man. There could be no doubt that the Governor’s 
visit to the scene of action was a precursor of some demand 
for atonement, by the Winnebagn nation,- for the past out- 
rages: Would they; to save their country from an incur- 
sion of armed white men, deliver up to an ignominious 
death their noble young chief? And had she, by the mes- 
sage she had sent him, perhaps lured him on to his fate? 
Was it even possible that while she Was chained hbre by 
the cruel, senseless order of the commanding officer, the 
one whom she would have died to save was being en- 
trapped; and about to suffer in expiation of the guilt of 
another ? For Monica did not for a moment admit the 
idea that the Red Bird had imbrued his hands in blood. 
She felt certain of hearing from his own lips that the hand 
of his companion — not of Wee-kah, but of him whose name 
was said to be unknown — had drawn the trigger and sent 
the bhllet through the heartof that poor soldier, the victim 
who fell by the side of the ill-fated Gagnier. 

To learn the name of this Savage, to denounce him and 
thus to save her friend, had been the scheme upon which 
Monica’s heart had been set, for the accomplishment of 
which all her plans had been formed. 

Her determination thus suddenly thwarted, what might 
be the result? She trembled as she contemplated the com 
sequences which were, to say the least, possible. The 
chiefs of the tribe intimidated — the Red Bird given up 
in compliance with their pusillanimous counsels I And 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


183 


there was now no help ; none, at least, unless she could 
send a second, a warning message to the youn^ brave. 

Long she sat and pondered, turning over in her mind 
scheme after scheme, yet rejecting each successively. 

One moment she resolved to order a bark canoe, with a 
crew of expert and trusty voyageurs, and, departing by 
stealth, hurry np the long, tortuous Fox River to Lake 
Puckaway, w'hence, by means of an Indian pony, she could 
be transported in a few hours to the Portage, reaching it 
before the Governor could possibly thread the long loop 
of severity miles which was the measure of the river pas^ 
sage thither. 

But no — she must not thus desert her young sister. Her 
father would never forgive her should she leave Made- 
leine to the care of comparative strangers, and subjected 
to influences against which she had solemnly promised to 
guard her. 

“ Ever thus I’’ she said, gloomily. “ Always that favored 
one to be thrust between me and the accomplishment of 
my dearest wishes ! Alas I it is to be so, doubtless, even 
unto the end I” 

After a short season of bitter thought, she resumed her 
cogitations in regard to what was before her. Since to go 
herself was out of the question, would it not be possible 
to dispatch a trusty messenger ? But who would do her 
errand ? The engages, with old Michaud at their head, 
would follow her lead, even into the heart of the enemy’s 
country ; but as well expect the canoe to move forward 
without the impulse of its paddles, as an employe to show 
prowess except at the signal of his bourgeois. Ah I the 
bourgeois I Would Logan undertake this errand for her? 
Could he, a stranger to. the country and language, hope 
to reach the Barribault hills, and, searching from village 
to village, find Wau-nig-sootsh-kah and concert with him 


184 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


all that would be indispensable for securing his safety ? It 
was not to be thought of. 

The idea next suggested itself that a Menomonee might 
be the most reliable person to take charge of her mission. 
The two tribes were in alliance— living in such close prox- 
imity, there w^as a sufficient familiarity with each other’s 
customs and language to make intercourse a matter of no 
difficulty. But where to find a trusty messenger ? Cer- 
tainly the squalid, drunken members of the tribe whom 
she daily saw lounging around the dock or lying along the 
roadside were not the persons to be safely selected as en- 
voys in a matter so delicate. 

There were, however, she doubted not, to be found men 
who did not haunt the settlements — men who retained their 
primitive integrity and sobriety: such a one she must 
seek; but it was not in the neighborhood of Shanty-town 
that her perquisition must be made. She must go to the 
Kakalin — a place resorted to, as she well knew, by the 
Menomonee chiefs who had relatives among the half-breed 
families in that vicinity. Madame Pothier, w^ho was of 
the same stock, would accompany her, and smooth the 
way for the carrying out of her design. It would but be 
necessary, she was convinced, to hint at her solicitude 
for the safety of Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, her cousin, to se- 
cure the hearty concurrence of the good-natured little 
motive. 

To-morrow, then, at the earliest hour possible, she would 
go to visit Madame Pothier, and together they would con- 
cert measures for prompt and efficient action. Such was 
Miss McGregor’s final decision ; and, having arrived at it, 
she rose from the log upon which she had been seated. 

Through her long-protracted musings all sounds around 
her, even the plaintive chauntof the whippoorwill from his 
adjacent covert, had fallen upon ears that heeded not ; but 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


185 


with her first return to consciousness of outward things 
she was startled and admonished of the lateness of the hour 
by the hooting of an owl, as it flew fron^its dark perch in 
the thicket behind her. She shuddered involuntarily at 
the omen — it was not a happy one for the success of her 
undertaking. 

“ If it should be in vain !” she exclaimed. “ If he should 
never receive my warning — never know how Espanola has 
labored to save him 1 Oh I Wau-nig-sootsh-kah 1 you have 
called me cold and unloving — -I will show you that I am 
neither; though to regard you as I did in those by-gone, 
happy days would be now a sin perilling my eternal sal- 
vation.’’ 

She wrung her hands as she stood — she could not re- 
press one wild burst of sorrow, but, leaning her head 
against a tree, she sobbed aloud. Having given way for 
a few moments, she collected herself with one of those 
efforts to which she had so long been accustomed ; and, 
her composure being in a measure restored, she walked 
slowly out of the wood and proceeded towards the Ber- 
thelet abode. 

Her thoughts, in turning from the one great subject of 
solicitude, were not altogether tranquil as they rested upon 
another. She would gladly have retracted some portion of 
her dialogue with the commanding officer. She blamed 
herself for the defiant, sarcastic tone of her concluding re- 
marks to him. 

“ Colonel Bentley might, if matters came to the worst, 
have had it in his power to befriend the Bed Bird,” she 
said. “Now I have made him my enemy, and put it out 
of my own power, in any case, to ask his interposition. 
Oh/ why had I not more selfrcontrol ? Why, with such 
power over my. emotions when only trifles are concerned, 
did I show myself weak and petulant when the case was, 

16* 


186 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


possibly, one of life and death ? Bat my error must be 
repaired, if, to that end, I stoop my pride as Espanola 
never stooped b^ore.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

As she drew near the house, Monica heard the sound of 
music, and soon distinguished her sister’s voice accom- 
panied by her guitar. Madeleine was seated upon the 
little porch of the mansion with the older members of the 
family, who had come forth partly to enjoy the fresh 
evening breeze after the oppressive heat of the day, partly 
attracted by the sweet song of the young girl. 

They were not the only listeners. 

Leaning upon the fence which separated the grass-plat 
in front of the house from the little, quiet street. Miss 
McGregor’s quick eye had detected the tall figure of the 
young bourgeois, notwithstanding the deep shadow thrown 
over him by a spreading elm under which he had stationed 
himself. Two days ago she would have hastened forward 
and summarily put a stop to her sister’s recreation ; now 
she arrested her own steps until the air which Madeleine 
was singing should be finished. She was willing that the 
impression it was producing upon the young man should 
be deepened rather than effaced. 

“ He is fond of music, ’^she murmured to herself. “ So 
much the better ! It will come in aid of the little scheme 
I have in view. And what harm can happen to her ? Her 
heart is well guarded^of that there can he no doubt.” 

What disastrous effect her “ little scheme?? might have 
upon the young man himself, she did not trouble herself, to 
consider. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 181 

After a few minutes she opened the gate and joined the 
little circle. 

Madeleine instinctively laid aside her instrument. : To 
her surprise, her sister placed it again in her hands. 

“Sing -me the little Scotch song that seems such a 
favorite with you lately — ‘ Wandering Willie/ ” she said. 

Madeleine struck the chords, but she did not immediately 
begin the air ; she went preluding on, until her sister re- 
marked,— 

“ It is perfectly simple, and you sing it often. What is 
the matter?” 

“ Yes, it is simple,” said Madeleine, and she began the 
air ; but when she had gone, through one verse she stopped. 

“ I think there are other melodies which Monsieur and 
Madame Berthelet will prefer,” she said. And with some 
animation she struck up the air of a gay little Prench 
chanson. 

Miss McGregor cared not for the change — she had gained 
all she wanted. “ She cannot sing it— it. brings to mind 
her own Wandering Willie too forcibly. It seems that, 
for once, ‘ absence’ does not ‘ conquer love’ I So much the 
better for my purpose.”' 

The song finished, the guitar was again laid aside, and 
but a few minutes elapsed before young Logan entered the 
front gate. Madame Berthelet politely made room for him, 
and was offering him a seat on the porch, but Miss Mc- 
Gregor interposed. 

“ You have come to talk over this vexatious business, 
she said. “Let; us go into the parlor. M. Berthelet, I 
shall want you, also, at the council. I can discuss matters 
calmly now, though, a few hours since, I could not.” 

The strength and bitterness of her tone surprised; Made- 
leine, who knew of no reason why the detention of the 
boats should thus afiflict her sister. 


188 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ Sbe has said that she has no fear of the Winnebagoes 
■ — it cannot then be that she is anxious to rush through 
their country before they get to be still more hostile. And 
it cannot be that she is more impatient to see papa than I 
am — at least I think not. It must be that anxiety in re- 
gard to the boats and their cargoes weighs upon her, for 
poor, good M. Tremblay is not an efficient aid, that is cer- 
tain. And yet she has not the whole charge — — 

Here Madeleine’s thoughts wandered off in another direc- 
tion, till recalled by the animated tones of the respectable 
M. Tremblay’s voice, as he was holding forth to Madame 
Berthelet upon the “ grand chagrin” of being thus detained 
for an indefinite period from the numerous olive-branches 
round about his table, and from their youthful step-mother. 

“ Comb’ cst-ce que vous avez des 'enfans ?”* inquired 
Madame Berthelet, in the patois that by courtesy was 
called French. 

Oh, I have nine — that is, I think — no, ten. Let me 
see. Jerome, and Napoleon, and Yictoire, and Alexandre 
— those three we named so in the time of the great war. 
Some said. You should call one of your hoys Wellington— 
he is the biggest captain ; but I said. No, he is English, and 
I don’t much love the English— me. Yictoire, and Jerome, 
and Napoleon, and Alexandre, three” — counting on his 
fingers — “then Josette and Genevieve, two twins — that 
makes how many ?” M. Tremblay was never quick at 
reckoning. 

“ Six,” suggested Madame. 

“Yes, six— then next come Paul, and Jerome — — ” 

“ But you have counted Jerome,” interposed Madame. 

“ Eh well— yes, he is the oldest of all— then we will 
leave him out. There was Paul, and, let me see— was 


How many children have you? 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


189 


there not one that died The honest gentleman knit his 
brows and thrust out his under-lip in his effort to remeni- 
ber. “Oh, yes; certainly, certainly — there was a little 
fellow, and he was very young when he was born, and we 
named him Labette — oh, then he must have been a girl; — 
yes, he was a girl, Labette, Lisbeth — oh, I remember that 
little baby veiy well. And, and-— how many have you 
there, madame observing that the good lady was keeping 
conscientious tally. 

“ I have only eight.”' 

“Well, there are some more. Jerome, and Paul, and 
Jean Baptiste — he is a twin, too, along with his sister 
Archange— they were the little ones when their mother 
died. That baby Labette that was too young to live, he 
came in somewhere before or behind little Paul, I remeiti- 
ber now so well I Have you counted them all, madame ?” 

“ N’goatau-shee-wee-shee-mar-chee exclaimed the 
good lady, holding up one hand, and with her head on one 
side, giving utterance, in an admiring, sing-song tone, to 
the customary feminine ejaculation of astonishment among 
the Indiansf — “ Dix enfans, puis un de mort ! Saint Bap- 
temel et nous autres n’avons ’ien qu’deux!”J 

“ Yes, madame, ten children ; and my pretty with, though 
not their own mother, is so good I Believe me, she never 
pinches them, never pulls their hair ; she is truly an angel, 
except only” — after a pause of reflection— “ except to my 
poor sister. Therese, whom I brought home to me when I 
lost that other poor wife. My dear Domitile does not; in- 
deed, to my poor Therhse show too much patience ; but 
what will you have ? We cannot be perfect. And Therese, 

* Oh ! most wonderful ! 

f Singularly enough, the expressions of wonder and admiration used 
by the two sexes are unlike. 

I Ten children, and one dead! Holy baptism I and we have but two I 


190 


MARK LOGAN, ' THE BOURGEOIS. 


she bears 4t! well. She takes ctire Of the children, only that 
Jerome and Napoleon and Alexandre are grown, an-d in 
the Company as clerks, and Yictoire and Josette and 
Gene )5fi5ve are with the ladies at Rock Island — and the 
little Arohange is with her respectable grandmamma — and 
all the rest that excellent Therese careS for — and 'she lays 
the; table,: too, and keeps the house in order, and concerns 
herself ithat Madame shall have no trouble, for she knows 
I like a quiet house.” 

The result of the conference in the parlor was made 
known by Miss McGregor’s address to M. Tremblay, on 
the return of the party to the porch. 

‘■‘I have determined, monsieur,” she said,; “to go up to 
the R^akalin to-morrow morning, and try if Tdan find means 
to communicate to my father the senseless order by which 
we are detained. He will naturally suffer great anxiety 
on our account, another of the prudent precautions of the 
military being, I understand, to send no mails through the 
country while this state of disturbance continues. We 
must find our own couriers, it seems. I doubt not of being 
able to do so, if I take matters in hand myself. Silver will 
command the necessary services, if friendship will not;?^ 

' “ Then I can write to papa,” cried Madeleine, joyfully. 

I bad better do so at once.” 

“ There will be time enough in the morning,” said her 
sister. “You will have a couple of hours or more while I 
am gone to beg Madame Pothier to accompany me to the 
Kakalin.” 

“Mademoiselle Madeleine will have to content herself 
for the 'day, 1 suppose, with the company of an old lady 
like me ; it will not be very amusing 1” said Madame Ber- 
thelet, greatly put out that Madame Pothier should be 
chosen rather than herself for Miss McGregor’s companion. 

“ No, my sister will go with us,” was Miss McGregor’s 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


191 


quiet answer. “Wo will stop for her on our return from 
the Fort. And we. shall leave Monsieur Tremblay behind. 
You will, I am sure, monsieur, give any aid or counsel to 
M. Berthelet that he may require in having the lading of 
the boats carefully transferred to the magasin. After this 
season of hot weather we may expect storms ; and no part 
of the cargoes must be left exposed. Mr. Logan will take 
charge of us to the Kakalin, and bring us back to-morrow 
evening.’^ 

It was now M. Berthelet’s turn to feel offended. He 
had a profound contempt for his friend Tremblay, and did 
not in the least relish the offer, of his aid or counsel. He 
sniffed and tossed up his high French nose, as was his 
custom when things did not please him, and replied, — 

“ I think Tremblay bad better give his help and advice 
to Captain Lovel and that polite young man who is Joe 
Hollister’s friend. The nine clerks and Philip Berthelet 
can . superintend the transfer of a few cargoes without 
troubling him to act as bourgeois. . If he likes to spend his 
holiday at the garrison, we will furnish him with a convey- 
ance there” — a hint which greatly pleased his simple- 
hearted guest, who bowed and smiled his satisfaction. 

had reckoned, however,” said Madame Berthelet, 
stiffly, “that at least Monsieur Tremblay would have re- 
mained to help us dispose of some of the provisions of 
which we have so uselessly provided a great store for Miss 
Monica’s journey to the Portage.” 

“ You had better give us a good ba,sketful,, madame, in 
our boat to-morrow morning,” said the young lady, blandly. 
“Although I am in hopes to be able to return in the cool 
of the evening to-morrow, yet it is possible I may, not ac- 
complish my errand before the day after, and, as I cannot 
trespass upon the hospitality of Madame Pothier’s friends 
with our whole party, I shall be greatly obliged if you will 


1^2 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


let your good Fran9oise pack us up a bani, with plenty of 
biscuits, ground colfee, and sugar, with any other little, 
palatable thing that may be convenient — so that we can 
have our table provided in tolerable comfort, in case of an 
enforced detention.” 

This was all the balm to her wounded feelings which 
Madame’s observation elicited. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

The young bourgeois was astir with the dawn on the 
following morning, that he might have all things in proper 
train for the expedition to the Kakalin. 

A fine spacious canoe was first selected from among 
those kept constantly ready for use in the hangar in which 
the weightier and bulkier of the Company’s goods were 
stored. A couple of engages, aided by a Menomonee 
hanger-on of the establishment, were presently engaged 
with a little kettle of melted gum, paying each seam anew, 
and scrutinizing with watchful care lest some minute crack 
or point by which water could find entrance might have 
escaped their observation. These preparations completed, 
the canoe was lifted without effort, so light was it notwith- 
standing its size, and placed in its watery bed. Next was 
heard the sonorous call of old Michaud, — “ ’Faut ci‘ier le 
butin, puis I’entrerl”* and away trotted the engages, first 
to the men’s house, whence they brought a store of mats, 
cushions, and umbrellas, which the bourgeois had provided 
for thh comfort of the ladies; next, to the kitchen of 


* You must get the baggage and put it in the boat. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 193 

Madame Berthelet for the vivres, or provisions, which 
that excellent lady, with ostentatious resignation, had 
caused to be packed in superabundant quantity for the 
refreshment of her guests and their chosen companion. 
Having laid up this good deed to the credit side of her 
account with conscience, Madame Berthelet felt at liberty 
to lay a light rein on the neck of the old Adam which 
had been, since the evening before, threatening to break 
loose. 

Early as was the hour when the sisters descended to 
breakfast, they found their hostess seated before a little table, 
on which were strewed bits of birch-bark cut into shapes — 
porcupine-quills of varied and brilliant colors — beads and 
worsteds — pieces of smoked deer-skin — fragments of blue 
and scarlet shrouding — all the appliances, in short, which 
might vindicate her title to. be considered as thoroughly a 
sauvagesse* as the’ one who had been preferred before her. 

Here she worked with great dignity at a small mocock, 
tracing landscapes upon the bark and ptying her little 
pincers with diligence until she had formed a remarkable 
green horse prancing under the shade of a spray of brick- 
colored roses. Her whole air said, “ I am exceedingly ill 
used, tut .1 shall not give people the triumph of seeing 
that I mind it.*’ So having with unwonted politeness, of 
tone requested Eran^oise, her little half-breqd maiden, to 
summon the gentlemen from the dock, whitlier they had 
gone to take a survey of the preparations were in 

progress, she proceeded, in lofty silence, to pour out the 
coffee and dispense the other articles of good cheer with 
which her table abounded. 

Young Logan made his appearance equipped for the ex- 
pedition in dark-gray linen trousers and a toga, as it was 


* The Prench name for an Indian woman. 

17 


194 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


called — a sort of frock of green French chintz, the belt of 
which, buckled tight around his waist, showed to advan- 
tage its. symmetrical contour. The heat and exercise of 
the morning had given an additional glow to his face, and 
slightly moistened the brown locks that clustered around 
his fair and well-shaped forehead. Miss McGregor was 
a little startled as she took in the tout ensemble at a glance. 

“Upon my word,” she said to herself, “I did- not think 
he was so handsome. What if there should be danger ? 
But no — there cannot be. Madeleine is her father’s 
daughter ; she, at least, has all the pride ’of the McGregors. 
And yet” — here she glanced again at the young man, “ it 
is well, perhaps, that she has a double panoply.” 

She stole a look at her sister. Madeicinels eyes were 
bent upon her cup of coffee, which she was quietly stirring. 
She seemed occupied with anything rather than the looks 
of the young mam When she raised her eyes it was to 
address some pleasant little remark to Madame Berthelet, 
whose gloom she made sundry efforts to dispel. Not once 
did she glance towards the bourgeois. Even when her 
sister called her attention with, ‘^ Madeleine, Mr. Logan is 
offering you some butter,” she gave the slightest possible 
inclinatibn of her head, and turned again towards the pen- 
sively-majestic old lady. . .. 

“She is even more proud than I thought her;”' said 
Monica to herself. “ If he perceives and resents it, it will 
be unfortunate for my little scheme. Distance of manner 
may, however, stimulate rather than repel him. Hauteur 
sometimes has that effect.” 

The bourgeois, in the mean time, took his breakfast 
quietly, without saying or looking aught that could be 
construed into an ambition for notice from either of the 
ladies. 

“ I have written a few lines to my friend Miss Latimer, 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


195 


to explain why I cannot call on her to-day. Will you be 
so good, monsieur/’ said Madeleine to M. Tremblay, “as 
to l>e the bearer of my note 

Miss McGregor fancied that young Logan made a move- 
ment forward, as if with the intention of offering his ser- 
vices ; but before her sister’s sentence was finished he had 
turned awayy with the remark, — 

“ The canoe is all in readiness ; and as,” looking at his 
watch, “ it is not yet seven o’clock, I think, if we set off 
at once, we shall ibe back, and well on our way to the Ka- 
kalin, before the heat of the. day becomes oppressive.” 

“ Taking much trouble, to go four miles in the hot sun 
this morning, just to find a companion on a voyage!” re- 
marked Madame Berthelet, with emphasis, and in her very 
best French. 

“ Rather a trouble, but one must resign oneself to what 
is unavoidable,” replied Miss McGregor — which did not 
help the matter. 

She departed, and Madeleine went up-stairs to write 
her letter to her father. She had much to communicate, 
for it was long since she had written him. Expecting to 
be the bearer of her own news, there had seemed little 
occasion, even if there had been opportunity, of giving him 
the particular^ of her welfare. Now, there w^as so much 
tq .tejl, so much to compress into a small space^for Mo- 
nica had warned her that her letter.must be short. She 
studied the most concise phrases, and rewrote certain por- 
tions more than , once. Before she thought it possible 
for the .voyagers to accomplish their trip, she heard her 
own name pronounced, and was aware that the bourgeois 
had entered the little hall below and was summoning her 
to join the party in the canoe. Her letter was quickly 
sealed, and she had only to snatch her broad-brimmed leg- 
horn hat, her parasol, and small satchel — then she was 


196 MARK LOOAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 

ready; and with a light step, and heart lighter still, she 
tripped down-stairs, and, taking leave of Madame Berthelet, 
accompanied the young man to the little platform in close 
contiguity to the dock, against which the canoe was sway- 
ing in the morning breeze. 

It was a lovely morning. The sun’s rays were occa- 
sionally veiled by the light clouds which, like waves of 
pearl, now gathered over his disk, anon parted and let 
down his beams upon the sparkling waters ; yet, though 
the heat of the day was thus tempered, the bourgeois had, 
with his usual forethought, provided a fresh crew to take 
the place of those who had already been upon duty. 

Madeleine, as she approached bright and smiling, had a 
pleasant word for each. To the old bowsman’s gratifica- 
tion, she began questioning him, as soon as she had paid 
her respects to Madame Pothier. 

“ Eh ! Michaud — we are not to have a very long trip, 
doubtless, with our brave voyageurs here ? It is not far 
to the Kakalin ?” 

“ Oh I du tout, ma genti’ demoiselle — ’ienqu’ trois pipes, 
je crais, d’icite au Kakalin. 

“ Three pipes I Oh, Michaud, you will have to make it 
four — yes, five pipes, this hot morning.” She spoke in 
French, then added the inquiry in English, — 

“ About twenty-one miles, is it 7iot with the customary 

colonial inflection. The question was to the bourgeois 

it was the first word Monica bad heard her sister address 
to him, and the change in the expression of his face and 
the animated tone of his voice did not escape her, as he 
replied, — 

“ I think it is about that distance to the foot of the rapids. 


♦ Not at all, my pretty young lady— only three pipes, I believe, from 
here to the Kakalin. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


197 


and I agree with you that the pipes will have to be toler- 
ably frequent, if the sun’s rays continue to pour down as 
they do at this moment. Allons, nos gens I Arrche’ I 
arrache’! pousse’ au large I” 

The young man’s clear, sonorous voice gave the word 
of command, the paddles, as if by magic, fell in concert, 
and the light, graceful canoe shot away into the broad 
waters. A few strokes sufficed to place the little bark in 
her prescribed course towards the south, and then sponta- 
neously broke forth the cheering carol from the lips of the 
proud and gay-tempered Michaud, who led the strain, — 

“II y a un fils de Prince, 

Qui se Idve au point du jour.” 

As the other voyageurs echoed the refrain, the bourgeois 
first and then the ladies caught the air, and paid the de- 
lighted crew the compliment of joining the sweet, quaint 
chorus, — 

“ Dorme, ma belle, passe le jour, 

Dorme, ma belle, il n’est point du jour.” 

The bourgeois had seate‘d himself towards the stern 
of the canoe, yet sufficiently near the ladies to answer 
any question that they might be pleased to address to 
him. He proffered no remark, and certainly seemed in 
no danger of incurring the charge of forwardness which 
Miss McGregor had, at one time, suspected he might 
deserve. 

In the cramped position to which the narrow dimensions 
of the canoe subjected the ladies, an occasional change of 
arrangement was necessary to insure their comfort. The 
mats and the cushions had drawn forth animated expres- 
sions of commendation from Madeleine, but in one of the 
first pauses in the song of the crew she suggested an 
improvement. 


17 * 


198 MARK LOG AM, THE BQLfRGEOIS. 

“ Those , great bags of skin near you, Mr. Logan— 
what are they 

“ We call them porches, 'I was the quiet reply. 

“Oh, I do not mean the name, but what do they con- 
tain : 

“A couple of small tents, in case we should be overtaken 
by a shower before we could reach a place of shelter.” 

“,Oh, delightful I I almost wish it would rain. It is so 
long since I have been in a tent! Wouldn’t you like to 
have a shower by-and-by, Monica 

Miss McGregor could not say that she would, for she 
remembered that she might, possibly, have a long walk to 
take after their arrival at the Kakalin — that it might even 
be necessary for her to make her way into the neighboring 
forests in search of a messenger to the Portage ; all that 
she had been able to learn from Madame Pothier having 
been, that there were almost always lodges of Menomo- 
nees within a few miles of the mill and settlements around 
the rapids. 

She, however, graciously commended the thoughtful 
care of the young bourgeois, and even smiled indulgently 
at Madeleine’s next suggestion, — 

. “Don’t you think, Mr. Logan, that by placing these 
porches, as^ you call them, nearer the centre of the canoe, 
and piling our cushions upon them, we could make quite a 
nice little divan to, sit upon, instead of being crouched down 
here upon the bottom of the canoe ?” 

“ The only objection to that would be that the canoe 
would presently lose its balance, and we should all be in 
the water,” said the bourgeois. 

“ True — I bad forgotten that; I will be very quiet, and 
not put the company in jeopardy.” And the young girl, in 
full contentment,' set herself to listen quietly, not to the 
confabulation of the other two ladies, which, being carried 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


199 


on in Chippewa, she could not understand — but rather to 
the pleasant poetic narrative that Michaud was giving, 
with the chorus of, — 

“ iin roulant ma boule, roulant, 

En roulant ma boule.” 

At the proper interval the melodious strains were inter- 
rupted by the bourgeois’ startling shout of, — “ Whoop-la I 
pour la pipe, pour la pipe, nos gens 1” when the prow of 
the canoe was turned towards the shore and run in under 
a grassy bank covered with lofty trees — a lovely spot for 
the half-hour’s respite which the toil of the voyageurs de- 
manded. 

“ Ah I by-the-by, Mr. Logan,” said Miss McGregor, with 
sudden recollection of a point on which she had resolved to 
satisfy herself, “ will you please tell me what countryman 
you are ? Are you a Canadian ?” 

“I call myself a Canadian,” he replied, “although I was 
born in the north of Ireland. My family, however, claim 
to be of Scottish descent.” 

Monica cast a triumphant glance at Madeleine, yet her 
accent was more than usually courteous to the young man 
as she replied, — 

“ You combine, then, the elements of the finest character 
in the world — ^ne^getic impulsiveness with cautious deter- 
mination. Ah I I see we shall do extremely , well, sir,^ 
under your care. We shall go like the wind, yet keep out 
of all danger and disaster.” 

And with these words she gave him her hand that he 
might help her on shore. 


200 


MARK LOO AN, TEE. BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER XXYL 

The voyageurs had assuredly paddled with a will — for, 
after a few pipes, and long before the sun had reached the 
meridian, the shout sounded loud and clear over the rip- 
pling waters, — “ Arrache’, arrache^ nos gens I* pour le 
Kakalin !” and with vigorous strokes the canoe was sent 
gliding forward till it touched the gravelly margin of the 
little bay which put in at the foot of that long, broken 
descent of the Fox River known as the Kakalin, or 
Rapids. 

It was impossible, without rudeness, to refuse the press- 
ing invitation of Madame Pothier to walk up to the house 
of her friend Madame Godefroy, fdr at least a short call. 
A visitor from “the EasP^ was such a godsend in those 
remote, secluded regions, that a failure to afford the good 
people an opportunity of hearing, seeing, questionirig, and 
admiring would have been an injury not soon forgotten. 

Monica, though somewhat preoccupied, bore her part in 
the civilities with tolerable patience ; but it was only Made- 
leine who could enter fully into the benevolent satisfaction 
of describing, narrating, and replying to the many ques- 
tions of the younger members of th6 household, the gay 
French element of whose eharacter predominated over the 
philosophical indifference which was also a part of their 
inheritance. But, though Madeleine chatted and laughed, 
she did not quite lose the thread of her sister’s conversa- 
tion with the elders. 


* Pull away, my men. The voyageurs generally give the word of com- 
mand with the verb in the singular and the pronoun in the plural. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


201 


The answers which Miss McGregor received to her in- 
quiries were encouraging beyond what she had dared to 
hope. 

‘^ Yes, doubtless a messenger could be found. Le 
Forgeron* might be at the Kakalin that very day. He 
had appointed to come with news from ‘ up above’ — people 
were beginning to look out for news now. Then there 
was Le Loup — Moa-way — at his camp on the other side of 
the woods.” 

“ Moa-way ? He must Chippewa. That would be ex- 
cellent, for I understand the Chippewa language, though 
not the Menomonee,” said Miss McGregor. But what 
can a Sauteurf be doing in this neighborhood ?” 

“ He is not a Sauleur—hQ is a Courte-OreilleX — he 
married the daughter of Le Forgeron — -of course he has 
come to live near her people.” 

“ Ah ! that indeed. And where shall I find him ?” asked 
the young lady. 

“ We will send little Pierre to guide you to his lodge — 
it is not more than a mile distant. But, as the day is hot, 
and you have come so far, would it not be better that you 
should remain with us and let Pierre bring Moa-way to 
you here ?” 

“ By no means,” was Miss McGregor’s earnest reply, 
for she did not forget that there might be others besides 
herself who understood the Chippewa — a language familiar 
with most of the Indian tribes. 

The two young daughters of the house eagerly pressed 
Madeleine to remain with them, but Madeleine, having 
also a particular reason for wishing to see the messenger, 
resolutely declined the invitation, with, however, the 
inquiry,— 


The Blacksmith. 


f A Chippewa. 


J An Ottawa. 


202 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

“ Is it certain that we shall find Moa-waj at his lodge 
And the answer was entirely satisfactory 
“He must be there. What else should he be doing in 
the heat of the day, when there is neither game nor .fish 
to be taken 

Miss McGregor was hardly prepared, as yet, to go the 
length of asking the escort of the bourgeois to. the camp 
of the Ottawa, but she with alacrity availed herself of a 
suggestion contained in an inquiry of her sister,: — 

“ Are you sure it is quite safe ? Is there no, danger 
“ Of the Puans ? Oh, not the least— just yet, I irqagine.’^ 
“No, not of the Puans, but of copperheads, rattle- 
snakes ” 

“ Des siffleurs ! serpens de sonnettes ? Not in the least. 
It is only at the Portage that they have such beasts.’^ 
“Nevertheless,” said Miss- McGregor, “ we will be on 
the safe side, and ask Mr. Logan to give us his escort. I 
would insist on Madame Pothier's remaining behind, for 
I fear she must.be exhausted with heat and fatigue, only 
that it is possible we may fail of finding Moa-way, in which 
case I should very much desire her kind services to inter- 
pret my errand to some one of the Folles Avoines.”* 
Madame had not the slightest desire to be left behind. 
She had her own little spice qf curiosity ; and having, with 
the quick observation of her people, divined that Monica 
had an object in view far more weighty than merely dis- 
patching letters to her papa, or even than taking informa- 
tion about her, cousin the Red Bird, she was resolved to 
lose no chance of arriving at the secret. 

The hour geo, is came, in obedience to the summons of 
little Pierre, and, attended by him, the three ladies set forth 
on their walk. The two Miss Godefroys would have been 


* Menomonees. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


203 


delighted to add their company, but it was no part of Miss 
McGregor’s plan to invite them. She was only afraid that 
Madeleine, always so polite and attentive to the ' comfort 
of others, should take it into her head to do so. 

Monica had her own ideas in offering her arm to Madame 
Pothier and walking on in advance, leaving her sister and 
the young bourgeois to follow at their leisure. It w^s not, 
truth' to tell, the .surest way of being Warned of danger 
ahead; but for that Miss McGregor seemed willing to 
trust to little Pierre. Now and then she looked back, and 
had the satisfaction of observing that the young man was 
permitted to carry the parasol, and that he was assiduous 
in holding aside projecting branches, or raising a too 
dependent bough that threatened to obstruct her sister’s 
path. 

Once, as she turned her head suddenly, she thought the 
proximity of the two closer than the occasion required, and 
it seemed to her that Madeleine’s color was considerably 
heightened; but whether that was. from displeasure at 
what she regarded as a familiarity, or whether it* was 
merely caused by the heat arid exercise, she could not 
determine. 

“After all, it is evident that he has been bred with a 
knowledge of what is right and proper ; he will not begin, 
at this.early day, to startle her by overstepping the bounds 
of a respectful reserve. Madeleine will doubtless treat him 
with politeness.. She knows that we' are to be, in a meas- 
ure, thrown upon his kind offices until we are safe under 
our father’s roof. If he is prudent and she is not ungra- 
cious— as it certainly is not in her nature to be— I think I 
may count on a ppwer of moving him at my will. Matters 
seem going on favorably.” 

with that she looked back no more, but left things to 
take their course. 


204 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Their devious, briery path at length led them out of the 
forest and into a little glade at the head of the rapids, on 
which were scattered three or four Menomonee lodges. 
The usual surroundings of ashes, refuse, and half-clothed 
children, took from what might otherwise have been pic- 
turesque in the scene. 

A half-dozen of small, wolfish-looking dogs yelped a 
salutation, whether of welcome or defiance was to be 
determined by circumstances. Out of consideration for 
Madame Pothier, Madeleine endeavored to subdue all 
expression of distaste, but she held herself aloof while the 
other two ladies approached the inmates of the lodges. 
After the first hearty “ Bon-jour I bon-jour 1’’ Miss McGregor 
opened her errand with, — 

“ Ton-a-pee Moa-way (Where is the Wolf?) 

“ Moa-way was-saw I” (The Wolf is far away.) 

“ Gone I oh, that is very vexatious !” and Miss McGreg- 
or’s brow clouded almost into a frown. 

When will he be back?” was her next inquiry, in Chip- 
pewa, which is likewise, with slight variation, the language 
of the Ottawas and Pottowattamies. 

“Pah-nee-mah,” (By-and-by). And the spokeswoman 
raised her hand to a point high up in the southwest, to 
indicate the probable time. 

“ Ah ! very well,” said the young lady, brightening up ; 

“ when he returns, tell him to come over near the mill ” 

But though the wife of the Ottawa had picked up the 
few words of her husband’s tongue most in use, she could 
not comprehend a longer message, even when assisted by 
Miss McGregor’s comprehensive gestures. Madame Po- 
thier was about to be called in aid, when she was again 
interrupted by a suggestion from Madeleine, — 

“ Why not wait, in one of the pleasant recesses of the 
wood, till Moa-way returns ? We passed several, just 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


205 


upon the bank of the river, where it looks beautifully cool 
and shady. Couldn’t we send little Pierre to ask some of 
the men to bring us the lunch*basket ? I don’t quite like 
to confess it, but I’m terribly hungry.” 

“ A very excellent thought,’^ said her sister, complai- 
santly. “ Certainly far better than waiting for Moa-way 
down by the noisy mill.” And Pierre was accordingly dis- 
patched to Michaud for the lunch-basket. 

Whether her sister had vouchsafed a word to the bour- 
geois during their walk, Monica could not determine ; she 
certainly neither spoke to him nor looked at him now. To 
make him amends for this seeming disdain, Miss McGregor 
graciously commissioned him to select the spot best fitted 
for their temporary sojourn and repast ; and she took pains 
to address several questions and remarks to him, even con- 
descending to walk with him a little way towards the wood, 
giving him her ideas of the sort of little glade most de- 
sirable — “ upon the bank of the river, and at a comfortable 
distance from the Menomonee lodges.” 

If this condescension were meant as a reproof to her 
sister, it failed of any visible effect. Madeleine remained 
quietly seated on the trunk of a fallen tree, selecting from 
a collection of bright summer flowers in her hand the large, 
variegated forget-me-nots which grow in such luxuriance 
in that region. -These she formed into a bouquet, and 
bound together with some tendrils of the wild clematis, 
also a part of her treasures — the rest, she discarded. 

Monica observed it all, and believed that she understood 
the feelings which kept her sister silent, yet which spread 
such a soft, contented glow over her face. 

“The forget-me-not is, memory, of course,” she said, 
mentally, “and the clematis — is that hope? — Hope and 
memory? She has both to live upon, while I, alas I have 
neither.” 


18 


206 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Bitter, envious thoughts filled her breast and prompted 
the questions, “Why should one sister be so much more 
blest in her lot than the other? Why should the one have 
everything to make her glad, and the other nothing 

Then she remembered tliat Madeleine, too, was separated 
from the object of her affections. 

“ True,” she said, “ but the separation will be but tempo- 
rary. Malcolm^s father will relent — will accord his son 
full forgiveness — will write to his old friend demanding 
his daughter in marriage. Madeleine evidently foresees a 
happy future. It is this certainty that gives a cheerful- 
ness to her spirit, a lustre to her eye, and a bloom to her 
cheek. Her heart’s young affections, even if crushed for a 
time, can never be so by the ruthless fiat of her father ! Hot 
for her is reserved the agony of knowing that but for the 
tyranny of a parent she might have been the instrument 
of saving one most noble, most beloved, from a pagan’s 
life, a pagan’s death I” 

Miss McGregor could scarcely refrain from wringing her 
hands in anguish at the picture she thus conjured up. She 
did restrain herself, however; yet she brooded all the more 
darkly over the contrast, and questioned more and more 
rebelliously the justice which permitted it. 

“ What has Madeleine done to make her the favored of 
Heaven?” was her further thought. “Has she been a 
more dutiful daughter than I ? Has she striven more 
earnestly to do her duty to God ? Has she even labored 
as assiduously as I, from my earliest years, have done to 
win the heathen to Holy Mother Church ? Would she, to 
soothe the last lingering hours of an unhappy parent, have 
listened to her prayers and have given up all that I gave 
up without an outward murmur ? Let Madeleine be put 
to the test— yet, ah ! that can never be — circumstances can 
by no possibility arise to try her as I have been tried — 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


207 


unless ” Here her musings toOk a darker hue. Delay 

and disappointment were working havoc in the better feel- 
ings of Monica’s' naturie. 

“ Why;shoul:d fc 7 ie be^exemptf Why. should she not be 
tried as well as'l? Let Madeleine be put. to the test! But 
how ? Suppose there has been, after fell, no thought of 
love between the sod of my father’s friend and herself. 
Suppose young Lindsay Ifeft his home for some cause of 
disagreement with his father in which she had no part. 
Suppose Madeleine is at this moment heart-free, as she 
certainly looks and appears. Then there might possibly 
arise circumstances which would give her an opportunity 
of showing how strong her Sen^bf duty is — how cheer- 
fully she can obey the behests of her father.” 

Miss Mc'Gregor was fast drifting from the principle on 
which she had bt first intrenched herself. She had said 
at the outset That she' would only avaiL herself of her 
sister’s influence Over the bourgeois to expedite her own 
meeting with Wau-nig-sootsh-kah. Now she began to 
speculate on the consequences to Madeleine herself of 
this daily association, this" dependence for courtesies, and 
eventually, perhaps, for protection, upon one endowed by 
nature to a degree that might ivell provd^ attractive to a 
disengaged heart. 

From the moment that she caught the young man’s 
glance of admiration at her sister at the Pottowattamie 
Islandh, she had taken it for granted that Logan would 
not be able to withstand the charm of daily companionship 
with one so lovely. 

At that early day she had foreseen great inconvenience 
from any Such susceptibility on his part, but she had con- 
soled hersdlf by repeating, from Time to time, “ Madeleine 
18 proud— she is her father’s own daughier!” 

Now her only fear was that her sister should prove too 


208 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


much of a McGregor — that she should discourage and dis- 
hearten the young man by scorn or neglect. 

Should she not, however — should the long voyage do 
for both the one and the other all that a voyage Under such 
circumstances well might do, then let the father have proof 
which of his daughters was the niore dutiful— which the 
more deserving of his love and favor I 

Such was the termination of Miss McGregor’s self-com- 
munings. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

Madame Pothier, half dozing from the combined in- 
fluence of the warm summer air and an abstinence since 
five o’clock in the: morning, and the young ladies, absorbed 
in their reveries, were not sorry to be aroused by the ap- 
proach of the bourgeois to conduct them to the place he 
had prepared for their refection. 

It was a sequestered, sylvan spot, with openings which 
afforded glimpses of the bright, rippling waters as they 
babbled past. Logan had placed a little tent and spread 
mats and cushions, that the period of awaiting the arrival 
of Moa-way might be passed with as, lijLtje discomfort as 
possible. 

The good, things provided by Madame Bcrthelet were 
discussed with great satisfaction. Miss McGregor insisting 
on the bourgeois’ taking a seat within the circle, and other- 
wise showing an evident desire to make him one with 
themselves — a change of policy which Madeleine did not 
-understand, and for which, like many other of Monica’s 
proceedings, she did not pretend to account. As for the 
young man, he seemed not disposed to avail himself too 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOUROEOIS. 209 

lightly of her invitations — a backwardness which Miss 
McGregor attributed to> her sister’s reserve of manner. 

“How perverse Madeleine is'P’ she' said to herself. 
“ She surely need not hesitate to be civil when I think it 
worth while to be so. Snch pride *Ts' simply ridiculous ; 
and, unfortunately, it may become something worse than 
ridiculous!” ^ 

No one showed a dispositibh to talk but Madame Po- 
thier, and her bavarddge was suddenly brought to a close 
by a shout, not Idud, but cheerful, of, “ How! how !” fol- 
lowed by the still more joyous “Bon-jour, bon-jbur, 
mes' amis I” in an accent quite Superior to the Ordinary 
Preneh patois, as a tab, stalwart Indian bounded rather 
than walked into the circle, and, with cordial hand-shakings 
to each, testified his satisfaction at the rencounter. 

“Bon-jour, bonjour! C’est Moa-way; le Loup?” said 
Miss McGregor, in a tone of -interrogation, for the singular 
costume, half civilized, half savage, and the language in 
which the salutations of the new-comer was given, rather 
mystified her. 

Moa-way, for he it was, was clad in the inevitable deer- 
skin leggings and moccasins, but his shirt was of white 
cotton cloth, instead of the customary indieniie or bright- 
colored calico. It was worn in the ordinary Indian fashion, 
outside of the leggings, and was of unusual length, hanging 
quite below the extremest verge’ of an old-fashiOned blue 
frock-coat bedizened with tarnished gold lace and buttons. 
The shirt was, moreover, ornamented with a broad double 
frill in front, and its snowy whiteness showed that it was 
a garment reserved for state occasions ; while the shining 
countenance, free from paint, announced that' Moa-way had 
complimented the strangers by a fresh toilet as much in 
their own taste as he could compass. 

There vras something so jolly in his manner, so cordial 

is* 


210 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


iij his phrases of welcome, that the little reserve of Made- 
leine’s manner thawed away at -once, and she was almost 
as ready as the ether two ladies to pat forth questions and 
listen for answers. . 

“ So, Moa-way-r~you,are welcome back !” was Miss Mc- 
Gregor’s next address. “ Have you been up there 

“To Wau-wau-arn (the Portage)? No — only across 
the lake to the village of L’Ours Affreux.’^ 

“Ah I good old Grizzly Bear! And what does hesay 
of these tiroes 7 What does he think will. happen ?” Miss 
McGregor affected'to speak lightly. 

“ L’Ours Affreux knows by this time that our Great 
Father, the Governor, has gone into the country. We met 
him half across the Lac des Puans at daylight this morn- 
ing.” ' ^ 

“ Does he think we shall have trouble ? . Does he sup- 
pose the Puans wilt go to war ?” asked Madame Pothier. 

“He knows that Day-kau-ray, and Nau-kau, and Hoo- 
wau-nee*kah are wise men, and that they will say to one 
another. Our Great Father has come from a fort full of 
Big Knives-x-he is- going, Heeter than the ivind, to another 
fort full of the same.” 

“From which you gather,?? said MisS McGregor,, ‘‘that 
the Winnebago chiefs feel themselves to bo hemmed in on 
all sides,” 

“ There is no more a road through, their country,” re- 
sponded Moa-way, “ without coming to a fence which bars 
the way.” 

“That is true,” said Miss McGregor, in an accent of 
profound sadness — “ no road save that which leads to the 
grave. What do the Folles-Avoines chiefs say of the — -the 
accident which happened at Tee-pee-sau-kie ?”* 


* Prairie du Chien. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


211 


‘‘ They know that it happened,” said the Ottawa, sen- 
tentiously. • 

“ Do any of their people know by whom the deed was 
done ?” 

“ There were three of the party — the Red Bird, the Sun, 
and another one.” 

“ And the other was ” 

“ The Red Bird does not say.” 

“ All singing the same song 1 But the Red Bird must 
— his Great Father will insist that the Red Bird shall — 
make it known!” ' 

“ Or else ” said* Moa-way, slowly. 

“Or else what?” asked Miss McGregor, almost fiercely. 

“ Who knows ?” said Le Loup, with that shrug so pecu- 
liar to a Frenchman that neither Madeleine nor the bour- 
geois could repress a slight exclamation. 

Miss McGregor remained plunged in thought; and her 
sister took up the word. She had not fully comprehended 
the conversation that had been going on — she little sus- 
pected that it referred to a brutal murder j but She saw 
that Monica was distressed, and she sought to change 
the l:opic. ^ 

“ But, Moa-way, if you are an Ottawa, as they tell me, 
how comes it that you speak such good French ?” 

“Oh, I learned it when I was young,” Said Mo¥way, 
with a grand air. “ I was civilized once.” 

“ Ah 1 Is it possible ? How we,s it, and where ?” 

“ It was Father Sylvan Who took me: My father was 
killed in Wayne’s wars, and I was left a little boy with 
only my sister ; and the good priest found us and tbok us 
home, and took care of us, and gave us education.” 

“ And did you learn to read and write ?” ' 

“ Oh, yes. Father Sylvan taught me reading, and 
writing, and religion, and several other things. But 


212 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


when I grew older, I liked better to go back to my people. 
I got tired of staying always in the house, so I went 
back ” 

“ And left your sister ?” 

“ Ob, a girl is different! They took her, you see, and 
sent her to the Ladies ;* then, afterwards, she married a 
trader. She was contented.” 

“And do you remember what you learned with Father 
Sylvan VI * - 

“ Not plenty — ^only to talk. ” 

“ Don’t you remember your prayers, Moa-way ?” asked 
the young girl. • 

“Not too much. You see,” said the Ottawa, apologeti- 
cally, “ they were in a different kind of French, which I 
did not understand, so they have all gone from me except 
here and there a word — ^ sector um, seclarum, seclorum,^ 
he repeated, with a tolerably devout air, “I remember 
that — it.means, I’ve been a bad boy, and I’m going to try 
to be better.” 

“And you have no opportunity of going to church now, 
I suppose ?” 

“ Oh, pardon I When I go down to Po-chee-quetf or to 
the Michilimackinac to the payment, I sometimes go near 
the little church, when I see the people going in and I 
stand awhile at the door to hear the priest sing, and I 
say over my seclorum, seclorum. Then when the father 
goes round and sprinkles with his little brush,, I bow and 
thank him — not that I let him see me, though, for if I did 
he’d have me up there and give me more to learn — so I 
wipe ray faco and come away.” 

Moa-way laughed roguishly, and Madeleine could hardly 
preserve a grave countenance ; but Miss McGregor, re- 

* Professed nuns who teach. . t Green Bay. 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


213 


garding the Indian’s tone as irreverent, thought it best to 
make a diversion by offering him some refreshment. 

“ Pee-quay-zhee-gun 1” he exclaimed, forgetting his 
French in his satisfaction at seeing a plate of biscuits 
pressed upon him. 

He took them every one, in true Indian style, with the 
expressive “ Nish-ish-in I” (good) — yet, tempting as they 
undoubtedly were, he put them quietly by his side and 
made no motion towards eating them before the conference 
should be ended. 

“ Do you speak English Mr. Logan took the liberty 
of inquiring when a lull ensued in the conversation. 

“ Talk Eenglish leetle,” Moa-way replied, slowly, with 
an air of self-complacency. “ Leetle boy D’troit — play 
Eenglish, talk Eenglish.” And with his hand he designated 
the height of a boy of nine or ten, to signify the period of 
his life when a smattering of English was likewise among 
his accorapli^ments. 

“But, Moa-way,” continued Madeleine, “tell us now, 
sincerely, what do you think of these Indian troubles ? 
What are the Winnebagoes going to do ? Are they really 
determined to act in an unfriendly manner?” 

Her voice and expression were so pleading that Moa- 
way, spite of his characteristic reticence, could not resist 
her. • He looked her full in the face with a solemn air — 
then, placing his hands horizontally side by side, and 
pressing his forehngers. closely the one against the other, 
the Indian gesture to signify an intimate friendly alliance, 
he said, — 

“ Good Indian, Then, with a sudden turn, “ God- 

d n Indian, so.'” and quick as thought he had drawn his 

knife from its sheath, and with a glittering whirl described 
a circle around an imaginary scalp, clutched in his left 
hand. 


214 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


With a shriek of terror, Madeleine sprang from her seat, 
only to find herself locked tight in the protecting arms of 
the young bourgeois, who had thrown himself forward at 
this demonstration, and who, during the moment that she 
clung to him, was soothing her with the tenderest accents. 

It was but a second before recollection came, and the 
young man relieved his embarrassment by turning with 
frowning brow to the Ottawa as he remarked, — * 

“ Upon my word, ray friend, it wbnld be better not to 
enact these frightful atrocities in play — ^they are not 
amusing to the ladies:” 

Moa-way looked a little abashed. He laughed, however, 
and proffered his hand to Madeleine, whose paleness from 
fright had been speedily succeeded by burning blushes. 

“ No— no — talk Eenglish no more— no good !” to which 
he added a repetition of the profane expletive by which he 
signalized his acquaintance with the language, and pres- 
ently suffered himself to be beckoned away by Miss 
McGregor, that he might receive the commission with 
which she had to charge him, and which it was of such 
vital iniportance to her that he should fulfil faithfully and 
promptly. 

Madame Pothier had no excuse for offering to join them 
in their conference, but she could not resist the temptation 
of strolling in the direction thdy had taken, and peering at 
the two from a distance. All that she could find out, how- 
ever, was, that a small canvas bag, containing, she Was 
certain, several dollars of silver, was the present guerdon 
of the service required ; and she had no difficulty in inter- 
preting the gestures which guaranteed another and larger 
sum when the errand should have been faithfully accom- 
plished. ■ 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


215 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Slowly and wearily to Miss McGregor passed the days 
which succeeded the departure of Moa-way to the Barribault. 

There was little social intercourse now among the in- 
habitants of the settlement-— only flying visits from one. 
locality to another, to learn the latest news or .’to repeat 
the latest tale of horrors. Rumors had begun to be rife 
of evil having befallen the Governor and his party— ^of his 
canoe having been attacked in going down the Wisconsin, 
and a part of his crew murdered. It will be easily believed 
that, in such a position of affairs, formal tea-parties Were 
rare and merry-makings unknown. 

Captain Lytle, impelled perhaps by a sense of his duty 
to Government, or^ossibly actuated by considerations of 
what he owed to his family and himself, had taken Lieu- 
tenant Stafford and his other subs and gone down the Bay 
on an exploring tour, leaving his friend Dalton to make 
his way with the fair Monica. Whether this movement 
betokened a growing indifference, or whether it argued a 
settled^ understanding with the lady, was a matter of specu- 
lation in certain quarters. 

The story brought by Spotted Arm and Yellow Thunder 
had by this time* become generally known. That Wau- 
nig-sootsh-kah, the brave and beautiful young Winnebago 
chief, had been the leader in such atrocities, those ac- 
quainted in the nation found it difficult tb credit. 

The Red Bird! The friend of the whites ! The wise 
and peaceful and kindly young chief I Rather any Indian 
in the tribb than he I Such was the universal verdict. 
Yet when it was told upon what was claimed to be indis- 


216 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


putable authority that immediately on the return of the 
Governor the proposed treaty would be held at Butte des 
Morts, all the military, with arms and even artillery, being 
present — and that? the Winnebago; chiefs' Who should ven- 
ture upon the ground were to be told, “ You must either 
surrender the Red Bird and his accomplices, to be dealt 
with according to our laws, or prepare to stand your ground 
between the troops marching upon you from this side, and 
a still larger force at this moment ascending the Missis- 
sippi and Wisconsin on the other” — then it was conceded 
that there could no longer be reasonable doubt of the truth 
of the rumors. 

And all these speculations — all the contumely heaped 
upon the Red Bird— Miss McGregor was forced to listen 
to. It was almost more than she could bear. She would 
sometimes try to draw off her thoughts from the painful 
subject, by watching the progress and effect of the in- 
creasing intimacy into which her sister and the bourgeois 
were thrown. 

For a time they met only at meals, and then tne young 
man’s demeanor was so reserved, so respectful, that it 
seemed absolutely necessary to lend a helping hand to 
the affair if anything was to be accomplished by means 
of Madeleine’s power over him. So Monica would plan 
visits to the Fort, for her sister, under the nominal escort 
of M. Tremblay, and, as she would recommend that they 
should be made in the cool of the afternoon, she found 
it no difficult matter to add to the arrangement the sug- 
gestion, — 

“Perhaps Mr. Logan will go along with you, in case 
Monsieur shbuld wish to stay and take supper and a game 
of euchre with Captain Lovel or M. Pothier.” Occasion- 
ally she would confide a shawl or some sort of wrapping 
to the bourgeois, with the careless remark, 


MARK^LOQAN, THE EQ UR GEO IS. 217 

‘‘ You will not forget, if you please, to band it to my 
sister if the evening grows chilly or damp. My father 
would, be dissatisfied if she sufiered any exposure; and 
good M. Tremblay’s memory is not the most prompt.” 

She could fancy to herself the care with which her sister 
would be enveloped and shielded from the air ; for, in spite 
of his habitual reticence, the time bad come when there 
could be no longer any doubt that Logon had fallen as 
deeply into the snare she had laid for him as her purposes 
required. 

If her conscience sometimes gave her a twinge, she would 
be ready with her sophistry, — 

“ If they choose to be unwise and fall in love with each 
other, can I help it ? It is certainly no fault of mine that 
we have been detained here so long and the opportunity 
afforded them, I do not see, however, that Madeleine is 
likely to give cause for uneasiness. She knows her own 
value ; she is every inch a McGregor. But suppose it 
were otherwise— suppose my father should be dissatisfied— 
and suppose he should refuse, as he unquestionably would 
do, to listen to the young man’s prayers — she would suffer, 
of course ; and she would have to bear it. I have been 
through the same trial, and who has cared for my suf- 
ferings?” 

On the eighth day her heart was gladdened by Moa- 
way’s returu, and though the answer he brought was 
somewhat equivocal, she accepted it as consoling, for it 
appointed an interview at a designated spot upon their 
route to the Portage, “when the darkness should vanish 
and the daylight shine again.” . 

Such was the Red Bird’s message ; and his token was a 
little embroidered scapulary which Monica, in happier 
days, had tied around his neck, as a symbol of the faith 
she. had labored in vain to teach him. 

19 


218 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


The message and its accompanying memento softened 
Monica’s heart, for a lime, towards her gentle and unof- 
fending sister, and she had almost resolved to interfere and 
arrest, the mischief she was preparing for her ; but then her 
former argument returned — “ Unless 1 secure the bourgeois 
by an irresistible influence, how can I be certain of his 
compliance with my suggestions as to speed or delay, as 
the exigencies of the task I have in hand may require ? 
For, after all, he is in one sense the master. He has never 
been placed under my control ; if he chooses to go ahead 
with the boats I have no power to hinder him, neither 
have I to spur him forward faster than he thinks best 
to go.” 

Thus it was that things were perrhitted to take their 
course. 

At length, when three weeks had elapsed without any 
well-authenticated tidings of the Governor — when no In- 
dian runner could give a hint of his whereabouts — when 
all eyes were strained daily and hourly in the direction of 
the Kakalin and the Portage to watch for his coming— 
suddenly a shout announced, one morning, the approach 
of a canoe, paddled by Canadian voyageurs, from the direc- 
tion of the Bay ahd Lake Michigan. 

A flag was flying at its stern, indicating the approach 
of some dignitary; and, to the astonishment of everyone, 
the Governor and his suite were presently descried, while 
the whoop of Major Elliott, which those who once heard 
it never could forget, confirmed the identity £tnd the safety 
of the party. Shouts of salutation and welcome, as they 
approached, were ringing through the air. 

The voyage of a thousand miles, up the Fox River, 
down the Wisconsin and Mississippi to St. Louis, thence 
through thO Illinois River to Chicago, and along the coasts 
of Lake Michigan and Green Bay, had been made, thanks 


MARK LOGANy THE BOURGEOIS. 


219 


to the brawny arms of the sturdy voyageurs, in little more 
than three weeks.* 

No one had been killed, no one harmed; all were safe 
and well, and ready to act with promptness in preparation 
for the. treaty which had been long delayed, but must now 
tak^ place, 

“ The Governor has come— now we can pack up and be 
off I” was Miss McGregor’s joyful cry. “Madeleine, do 
you hear? Tell Fran9oise to run to the warehouse and 
ask Mr. Logan to come to me immediately.” 

Madeleine dispatched the message in a more courteous 
form, and the young man reported himself without delay. 

“Mr. Logan, can you have the men called in and, the 
boats packed and ready for starting by daylight to-morrow 
morning 

“ I will do my best, madam ; but are you quite sure we 
shall be permitted to leave ?” 

Miss McGregor reflected a, moment — she had not though^ 
of any further contingency. 

“ I do npt think the Governor will forbid our going. 
Why should he?” 

“For the same -reason, perhaps, that the commanding 
officer did — a fear lest the guns and ammunition should be 
taken possession of by the hp^tile Indians.” 

And another hour showed that Logan was right. Miss 
McGregor went herself to plead with the Governor to 
withdraw the interdict which Colonel Bentley had imposed ; 
but iill the satisfaction she obtaiped was, — 

“ We must wait a little while yet. It will never do to 
hazard such a cargo in the heart of the enemy’s country. 
We must see what the treaty at the Butte des Morts will 


* This wonderful trip was actually made by Governor Cass during the 
Winnebago war. 


220 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


effect. If the Winnebagoes listen to reason, and consent 
to surrender the Red Bird and his accomplices, you can 
with perfect safety follow in the wake of the military, when 
they go to the Portage to receive him.’^ 

To surrender the Red Bird ? Would they be so base 
so cruel ? And was she to wait till such a treachery was 
promised and in train for consummation ? Never I never I 
He must be warned— he must understand what was de- 
manded from his fellow-chiefs and might possibly be ex- 
torted from their fears or their cupidity. She must be the 
one to put him on his guard ; to concert with him, if need 
were, means of escaping the fate that was in contemplation 
for him. 

Miss McGregor revolved all contingencies and probabil- 
ities, and in fact settled her plan of action, while appearing 
to listen to the Governor's lengthy reasons for refusing her 
request. She then accorded a seeming acquiescence. 

“ I shall trust to your goodness, sir, to send me word 
from the treaty-ground at the earliest hour, so that I may 
join the military fleet on its expedition to the Portage.” 

“ Oh, yes ; certainly, certainly. I will send you a trusty 
messenger, a Menomonee, if possible, who can pilot your 
boat up the Rapids.” 

“ 1 have heard there is an Ottawa, Moa-way,— Le Loup, 
— living among the Menomonees. As I understand his 
language, he would be a preferable messenger.” 

‘‘ True, true,” said the Governor ; and, taking out his 
note-book, he made a memorandum of the name and pro- 
posed errand of “ The Wolf.” 

It M^as all that Miss McGregor could do to possess her 
soul in apparent patience while the necessary arrangements 
were being made for the holding of the treaty. The goods 
to be distributed as presents were already upon the ground, 
under a military guard, but the boat-loads of provisions 


MARK LOO AN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 221 

with which to feed the assembled multitude, and the artil- 
lery which was to intimidate the refractory, required some 
little time for their transportation; and although the prin- 
cipal Winnebago chiefs were in the vicinity of the Portage 
awaiting their summons, several days were necessary to 
notify them of the precise time of assembling at “the 
Butte.’^ 

The young bourgeois had a great desire to be an eye- 
witness of scenes and events so important and interesting. 
The arrival of the chiefs of thC'different tribes in their most 
splendid costumes — the solemn session of a council which 
was to involve matters of life and death — the thousand 
little incidents tending to illustrate the aboriginal character 
— the sports, the races, the feastings — all that he had read 
of, or heard described by old voyageurs, had a charm for 
his imagination. It might possibly be that he had imparted 
something of his longings to the younger Miss McGregor, 
for she ventured the suggestion to her sister, — 

“ Why could not we take one of the boats and go up to . 
the treaty ? We^should in that way learn of the very first 
moment when we could set off for home.” 

Monica looked searcliingly at her, thereby causing her 
color to rise, and furnishing a satisfactory hint to her keen 
perceptions. 

“ I donT think,” she said, “ that it would, be exactly the 
place for ladies ; but I am not sure that it would be a bad 
plan for Mr^ Logan to take Michaud and two or three 
others and go in a canoe for a day or two to learn how 
matters are going on.” 

Her secret charge to the bourgeois, as he was setting 
forth on the day after the array of boats with their burden 
of officers, soldiers, and civilians had left for the scene of 
the treaty, was to this effect : — 

“ Come back to me at least twenty-four hours before the 
19 * 


222 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


breaking-up,pf the treaty. We must contrive to pass those 
who are going up the river. My object is, to get a couple 
of days, at least, in advance of the soldiers. As for fol- 
lowing after them, and being subjected to all the incon- 
veniences of a journey upon their trail and that of the 
savages, it is, a thing not to be thought of. I rely upon 
you to serve me in this matter — your reward shall not 
be wanting.” 

She uttered the last with a smile of such peculiar mean- 
ing, that the pulses of the young man leaped, sending the 
blood to the very roots of his. hair. For a moment he did 
not speak ; yet he was presently able to answer com- 
posedly, with assurances of fidelity, and discretion, and 
forthwith proceeded to make his preparations for imme- 
diate departure for the Butte de,s Morts.* 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Several days elapsed before Logan returned. The 
news he brought was, that the Win nebagoes had declined 
making an engagement to surrender the accused party ; 
all they would say in the matter was, “ They would tell 
Wau-nig-sootsh-kah and Wee-kau what their Great Father 
required, and if they chose to give themselves up they 
could do so.” - . 

Arguments and threats having produced no more satis- 
factory result, dt was resolved to try what virtue there 
might be in sword and bayonet. Accordingly, the military 
commander of Fort Howard, Colonel Bentley, was. in- 


* Hillock of the dead— a burial-place for the slain in a bloody battle. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 223 

structed to take as large a proportion of his force as could 
be spared from the defence of the Port, together with such 
militia and volunteers as could be gathered ‘‘on the Bay,” 
and repair to the Portage, to enforce the demand of the 
Governor. • 

Of course, the t^mnty-seven miles between the treaty- 
ground at Butte dee Marts and the settlement had to be 
retraced, and the necessary preparations for the expedition 
hjjrried forward with all possible dispatch. 

The young officers, with one exception, were forward 
in begging to be put upon a seiMce which promised active 
employment and adventure. 

Mr. Sihithett “‘Could not see what there was so very 
attractive' in going to hunt after such a set of blobdthirsty 
fellows. Thbre was ho sayihg what they mightn’t be up 
to. For his' part, he had been too short' a time in the ser- 
vice to care particularly about a change and Mrs. Hol- 
comb loudly declared that he was right. 

“ What in the world Should s/ie do,” she wondered, “ if 
they detailed Smithett for that service? He was all she 
had to look to for attention, since Lytle went exploring 
down the Bay and carried Stafford off with him. They 
might have Holcomb and welcome, if they could make 
anything out of him, for, in spite of all his promises and 
paradingsi he was getting to be as bad aS'ever; and he 
had gone and let that pretty mare *Lady’ get foundered, 
she believed, just bri purpose to spite her !” ' 

Very attentive Mr. Smithett had really been, since the 
first evening he had spent, by invitation, a't Mrs.- Hol- 
comb’s quarters. It was as pleasing to the homesick 
youth to detail and describe all that had fallen under his 
observation in the great world of Kew York, as it was 
delightful to the lady to listen. 

“ I don’t see, I am sure,” she would observe to her 


224 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

cousin, or to Madeleine, if she was present, “ what Captain 
Level and old Tib and the rest of them menn by laughing 
as they do at poor ^mithett. Mr. Charlie llplcomb began 
the same game, but I put a stop .tO'it by remarking that 
I thought he was the dearest little fellow in the world, and 
understood the best how to entertain ladies. Oh, dear I 
How I do wish it was not so hot, and musquito*y, and 
Winnebago-Indian-y, and everything! Oh! excuse me, 
Madeleine; I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But it is, 
you know, rather hard that those people have raised such 
a disturbance that we can’t get up one little dance, when 
Lieutenant Smithett knows how to waltz, and has prom- 
ised to teach me as soon as ever he can get a chance.” 

The hours passed together by Madeleine and Grace 
seldom afforded them the eiyoyment of an unrestrained 
outpouring of sentiment and affection. Mrs, Holcomb 
made it a point to add herself to the company when she 
had no visitors ; and when .she had, she was equally per- 
sistent in demanding that “the girls,” as she called them, 
should cpn^e down into her parlor and help entertain 
them. , 

“ Why, Grace,” she would say, “what do you suppose 
I wanted of you, if it was not for company? I dare say 
all. the fellows are whispering among themselves that I sent 
for you put, here \to swap off^ — -that’s what they always 
say — saucy creatures I And they’ll think I’ve got my eye 
on old Tib for you, if you sit up in your room next to 
his so much.” 

“ I am not afraid of the young officers fancying I am 
ready to be . swapped off to Mr. Tibbets or any other of 
their circle,” was her cousin’s calnr reply. 

“Oh, you needn’t turn up your nose at Tib. He is 
not so very old, — though we call him so, because his hair 
is so light it looks like gray, and because he is so old- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


225 


fashioned and fidgety in his ways. Why, he is only a 
lieutenant I A man never gets to be a captain in the 
army till he is pretty well on in the world. If your 
sister did but know it, Madeleine, Lytle is no chicken. He 
knows how to get himself up 'splendidly, don’t he ? He 
has had plenty of time to practice. I sha’n’t be troubled 
with him coming after Grace, for they say he will look out 
for money the first thing; red, black, or yellow, he don’t 
care, ^o he only gets the 'shiners, Holcomb says.” 

“ I wonder you repeat any such foolish speeches of your 
husband’s,” said Grace, who felt sure Madeleine must 
make the application. 

‘^It isn’t often I do’ quote his sayings, I’m sure,” said 
the appreciative wife, “ but now and then they happen to 
be apropos.’ Did you know that Dalton was a widower ? 
We thought it was a great risk for Lytle to go off and 
leave him in possession of the ground,” with a significant 
look at Madeleine, “but it seems he knew what he was 
about. Did your sister know that he had been married 
before? And was that the reason she refused him?” 

“ I do not think my sister refused Captain Dalton. I 
do hot suppose he ever asked her to marry him,” said 
Madeleine. 

“ Oh, yes, he did I He went up on purpose to propose 
one day when you were down here. Some one said that 
as soon as he saw you land he fixed up and started off. 
You see, we know everything that is going on, here in 
the garrison. I could tell you lots of things that would 
make you open your eyes. Why, do you know that 
Mrs. Bond can’t be trusted in the sutler’s store without a 
clerk specially detailed to watch her all the time, to see 
that she doesn’t crib anything ?” 

“Oh, Edith,” said her cousin, “how can you tell such 
things of an officer’s wife ?” 


22G 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“It’s true, every word of it. Why, she will send over 
for a box of ribbons of some particular color she wants, 
and say she will look at them and select the piece that 
suits her. They have to take the trouble to measure every 
piece before sending it. When she sends back word, as 
she always does, that they are none of them exactly the 
shade she wanted, then they have to go to work and 
measure all over again, and quietly send her at once the 
bill for the number of yards she has cut off from here and 
there a piece.” 

“ It’s very shameful in the sutler’s clerks to report such 
things of a lady,” said Grace, indignantly. 

“ It’s true, every word of it. My Norah was in their 
quarters one evening when there was a terrible rumpus on 
account of such a bill being sent in. One of the little girls 
came into the kitchen crying, because, she said, papa was 
swearing at tnamma, and almost shaking her, about the 
new trimming on her hat. They have the times there, I 
can tell you.” 

“ You need not,” said her cousin ; “it is not pleasant to 
hear about them.” 

“ You can’t deny that it serves her right. Women who 
have nothing to depend upon but a captain’s pay, and with 
five children at that, have no business to set up to dress 
like those who have something else to look to. And, after 
all, she looks like a mere dowdy, as Smithett says. She 
can’t contrive to look fashionable, with all her pickings and 
stealings.” 

“ Oh, Edith I what an expression I Pray don’t use such 
xlanguage.” 

“ Well, I won’t,” said Mrs. Holcomb, laughing, “ for, after 
all, it isn’t quite correct, seeing that her husband, in the 
end, has to pay for it all. Scott takes good care of that. 
Catch him losing a ghred or scrap as large as your finger- 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


227 


nail I Why, she went to the shanty* one day and asked 
to look at some lace capes, and, as she was turning them 
over in the box, she took one, as she thought, unobserved. 
She never said a word about it Scott waited a couple of 
days, and then, just after the ‘ Roast Beef’ had been beaten 
and he knew Bond had gone home to dinner, he sent his 
clerk with a note to say that if Mrs. Bond had done look- 
ing at the cape she took home he would like to have it, as 
he had an opportunity of disposing of it. You may depend 
she sent it right back, with an apology for not returning it 
before. What do you think of that 

“ I think we had better talk of something else,” replied 
Grace. 

“ And so do I — for I hadn’t got through with poor Dal- 
ton. Madeleine, didn’t you know that after he got his 
answer he went right back to Mackinac in the little 
schooner that was here last week ? Tell your sister that 
I don’t think it was fair in her to let him offer himself if 
she did not mean to accept him.” 

“My sister never did let Captain Dalton offer himself,” 
said Madeleine, with earnestness. “ She is too honest to 
do such a thing. Captain Dalton must have seen, if he 

had any eyes, that she did not care for him ' 

“ Yes — but men that are in love haven’t any eyes, as a 
general rule — and ladies do marry men they don’t care for. 
So I guess poor Dalton ran his risk, and got the mitten, as 
they say. And now Lytle, when he comes back, will 
have it all his own way ; for he is one of those sensible 
people who have got eyes in their head.” 

Even the visits of Mr. Ewing had to be paid to Mrs. 
Holcomb rather than to her young relative ; and, as a rule, 
the hostess monopolized the entire conversation unless the 


* The sutler’s store. 


228 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


entrance of some other young gentleman effected a tempo- 
rary diversion of her powers of entertainment. Any sub- 
ject beyond the merest chit-chat or gossip was sure of 
being met by some derisive remark. “ Upon ray word, 
Grace, I had supposed you had left your school-books 
behind you, in blue old Connecticut I We haven’t much 
fancy for dictionaries and philosophies out West.” Or, 
“ Really, Grace, Mr. Ewing will think you are going to 
turn aboriginal, if you catechize him so much about the 
Wy-an-dots and the Pottowattamies, with their wigwams, 
and their pappooses, and their gibberish. Let’s be civil- 
ized people now for a little while, I beg.’^ 

Poor Miss Latimer I The romance of Western life was 
fast fading with her into the dimness of a distant vision. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

The military flotilla was at length ready to set forth for 
the Portage.” All that Miss McGregor could obtain from 
the Governor and the commanding officer was a permission 
for the boats under the charge of the bourgeois to proceed 
a little in advance of the others, so as to be the first to pass 
the different chutes or rapids (of which there were three 
considerable ones before reaching Lac aux Puans^), and 
to wait above, in some quiet spot, for the remainder of the 
fleet to join them. Having seen the expedition well under 
way, the Governor then turned his face eastward to another 
sphere of duty. 

Moa-way was duly installed by Miss McGregor as pilot, 


* Winnebago Lake. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 229 

and, thanks to his skill and the energetic good will of the 
clerks and engages, the Company's boats shot rapidly 
ahead. The Kakalin and Little Chute were safely passed, 
and the Grande Chute reached, long before the military 
boats had finished their first portage. 

Nothing is now left of the Grande Chute save the break 
in the course of the river whence it derived its name. Its 
beautiful, romantic banks, and all its wild, solitary charms, 
have given place to the noise and bustle and levelling pro- 
cesses of civilization. Men of enterprise are making their 
fortunes on the spot where the deer trod, the wood-duck 
and prairie-bird reared their young, and the wild thrush 
carolled his sweet hymn to the parting day. 

On the calm, lovely summer evening when the boats 
pushed in to the landing-place, a little below the fall, and 
just at the point where the eye could take in the foaming 
stream, the high wooded banks all tinged with the pink 
and golden rays of the setting sun, and the deep shadowy 
recesses, in which might lurk — one hardly knew what— it 
was scarcely possible to conceive a landscape more replete 
with loveliness, even though some feelings of awe might 
temper those of admiration. 

The bourgeois and sundry of his men busied themselves 
in making ready the tent for the young ladies, while others 
cut down a tree'and made a fire, preparatory to “boiling 
their kettle,’^ the accepted phrase for cooking a meal. “We 
travelled so many pipes — then we stopped and boiled our 
kettle.” Such is a voyageur^s description of the course 
of a journey. 

Madeleine explored the environs of the camping-ground 
and made herself acquainted with all its attractions, M. 
Tremblay striding gallantly by her side — a piece of atten- 
tion, by-the-by, from which Miss McGregor would have 
taken care to excuse him, had she seen the slightest indi- 

20 


230 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


cation on the part of young Logan of a design to offer hia 
services. But the bourgeois evidently felt it his place to 
stimulate the men to diligent perseverance, both by exam- 
ple and encouraging admonitions, and he gave no heed to 
aught but the present care of his charge and diligent prepa- 
ration for the next day’s duties. Only when aupper was 
over, and all things were reduced to order and quietness, 
did Monica perceive him stealing away to the spot where 
Madeleine was standing upon a point jutting far into the 
stream, whence she could gain the fairest view of the land- 
scape as it lay bathed in the soft, silvery moonlight. 

They stood together for several minutes — whether en- 
gaged in conversation or not Miss McGregor could not 
determine. 

“ He must pay me for my indulgence by double diligence 
to-morrow, if that be possible,” she said. “ We are now 
more than a day ahead of the soldiers, but I shall not be 
contented till I have put three days, beyond all peradven- 
ture, between us. If Madeleine would only look a little 
sad and dejected, I could urge him on with the plea that 
she is pining and anxious on oui* father’s account ; but, 
having assured her again and again that there was no 
danger to those at the Prairie, I hardly know in what way 
now to disturb her provoking tranquillity.” 

Madeleine before long returned to the tent, and a very 
short time had elapsed ere, lulled by the murmur of the 
rushing waters, and the chirping notes of the insects with 
which the woods abounded, she was wrapped in the sweet- 
est of slumbers. 

Miss McGregor remained for yet a short space, to con- 
cert with the bourgeois the arrangements for the following 
day. 

The Frenchmen were hurried to an early repose no 

chatting around the fire, no gay jokes with the clerks or 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


231 


each other, their customary recreation after a hard day’s 
toil. They were warned that they would be aroused with 
the earliest dawn, and with that in view should lose no 
half-hour of their resting-time. 

Madeleine thought she had only begun her first dream, 
when she was startled by the clear, ringing call, — 

“ How 1 how I how 1” 

“ What lungs he has I” said her sister, in the calm tone 
which betokened that she was not newly aroused. “ What 
a splendid physique, every way I Quite superior to the 
station he occupies, in manners, and, I should judge, in 
antecedents. When we get better acquainted, I dare say 
he will tell us something of his history.” 

Madeleine made no answering comment. She raised 
the corner of the tent to look abroad. All objects were 
yet so indistinct that the woods and cliffs looked like an 
ebony landscape cut out and laid against the sky. The 
voices of the men chattering, or occasionally shouting to 
each other, broke the stillness ; but there was no sound of 
axes, for every appliance for cooking the breakfast had 
been made ready the night before. 

“ Why are they up so early ? What is the hurry ?” she 
asked of her sister. “Ho you think we could help them 
any by getting up now ?” 

Miss McGregor was already nearly dressed. 

“ Yes, we can help them by packing all our things away 
neatly, for the men to carry over the portage ; and we can 
spread the mat for the table-cloth here on the floor of the 
tent; and, if the dew is not too heavy, we can see the 
dishes from the mess-basket rinsed and made ready for use. 
It will be too damp to breakfast in the open air.” 

The two sisters soon had their tent arranged like a com- 
fortable little parlor. The bear-skins and blankets which 
had formed their bed were rolled into a sort of low divan 


232 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


to famish seats. It was Miss McGregor’s resolute hands 
that drew the cords to confine, them in shape, Madeleine’s 
delicate ones proving quite inadequate to such service. 
She laughed merrily at her fruitless efforts, for the exhila- 
ration of this mode of travelling, and her sister’s unwonted 
kindness of demeanor, put her in exuberant spirits. She 
was in a glow of contentment as well as of exercise which 
added a charm to her beauty, when she walked forth to 
watch the progress of affairs without. 

Moa-way, whom she. had not seen before, for he had 
been in the leading boat, and had quitted it for a call on 
his family after all had passed the Kakalin rapids, was 
now at the camp. 

In the background were some two or three of the younger 
members of his family, lounging in a nonchalant fashion 
against the bank or trees, not dreaming that the white man 
would suspect the anxiety with which they were awaiting 
the moment when a meal of bread and pork would be hos- 
pitably tendered them. 

The Ottawa had drawn his knife from the scabbard 
around his neck, and was peeling and trimming sundry 
troches, or forked sticks, on which to broil or toast the 
viands in preparation. His greeting was cheery and ani- 
mated, as if to banish the impression of their last meeting 
in the woods above the Kakalin. He spoke rapidly, in 
French, not of the most elegant, it is true, but perfectly 
comprehensible. 

“Ah I la petite! Bon-jour 1 bon-jour I” And he held 
his knife and broches in one hand, that he might shake the 
one she offered with the other. “Moa-way will keep his 
knife close,” suiting the action to the word, and with a 
laugh clutching his weapon against his side ; “ he will not 
frighten the little fawn again. She is not like her sister. 
The sister has the blood of the braves. The knife and the 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


233 


tomahawk do not make her blench. She should not sit 
with her hands tied, under a roof-tree. She should wear 
the mitasses and the match-ee-ko-tah. She should be the 
wife of a great chief, and bear sway over thousands.” 

Moa- way’s eyes kindled, and his gestures expressed his 
enthusiasm. 

“ Oh, Moa-way, is it you, the pupil of Father Sylvan, 
who talk thus?” said Madeleine; gently. “Do you not 
know that my sister is a Christian woman, — that it is 
better she should fulfil her vocation in performing the quiet 
duties which the good God has given her to perform? Re- 
member, we are Sau-ga-nash* as well as Puan.”f Made- 
leine pronounced the latter word with an accent of 
ill- concealed disgust. 

The Ottawa did not wait for her to complete her sentence. 

“ You ?” he broke in, with a shrug and a laugh. You 
a Puan I Kah-ween He turned and strode away, leav- 
ing Madeleine to her reflections. 

“He despises me, and thinks me unworthy of my lin- 
eage, because I am not heroic and patriotic, like Monica” 
— such were her thoughts. “ Oh, if I only did not belong 
to them I If I were but an Ottawa, or a Chippewa, or even 
a Sioux 1 Why is it that there is not one sentiment of 
sympathy or natural feeling for them in my breast, — not 
even when I know that poor mamma belonged to them ? 
If I could only admire and honor the race as Monica does I 
And yet, seeing them so fallen from their high estate, must 
not the very feeling which binds her to them make her still 
more unhappy ?” 

So deep was her reverie that, although she had walked 
towards the bank, her eye scarcely took in the dark waters 
changing as they fell into billowy foam, the forest crowning 


f tVinnebugo. J No, indeed I 

20 * 


* British. 


234 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


the lofty banks just kissed by the rays of the rising sun, 
the boats, which lay moored along the shore, and out of 
which the busy voyageurs were engaged in transporting 
such of the loading as might be injured by the dashing 
waters through which the boats were to be dragged di cor- 
don, and placing it at the foot of the rugged path which led 
up the bank and along the brow of the hill to the end of 
the portage. It was an animated picture. The men in 
their tuques or scarlet caps and parti-colored sashes ; the 
clerks, in compliment to the lady passengers, attired even 
more neatly than was their wont, in gay calico shirts and 
hat-bands of ostrich-feathers — all in a state of busiest 
activity, almost tumbling over each other, like the denizens 
of an ant-hill. 

Madeleine was awakened from her painful train of 
thought by a gentle, manly voice near her. 

“ Will you come to breakfast ? Your sister has sent me 
for you.” 

The bourgeois did not offer his arm, but he took the lib- 
erty of occasionally supporting her steps as she picked her 
hazardous way among the stones and little pools of water 
to the firm land and the open space where, in front of the 
tent, the smoking dishes and fragrant, steaming coffee-pot 
were standing on a wooden box which, with the mess- 
basket, served the place of beaufet. 

The crisp ham and toast and the poached eggs were not 
the chief delicacies of their morning meal. Moa-way pres- 
ently came forward, presenting his broches garnished with 
wild pigeons, which, perhaps as an emblematical peace- 
offering, he had shot the evening before, and had now 
plucked and prepared for the younger sister. 

“ Ah 1 Moa-way,” said Madeleine, accepting his offering 
with a sweet grace that brought a smile to the coun- 
tenance of the good-natured Ottawa, “you are truly a 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


235 


Weem-tee-goash !* You, one of the lords of creation, 
waiting on our feeble sex ! Take care that they do not 
hear of it before the next treaty,^’ she added, archly. 

“ It would be better to be made a squaw of for good 
behavior than for bad,” said Moa-way ; “ but I am not 
afraid — me.” 

Mais, mais, what all dis ?” asked M. Tremblay, quite 
mystified. “ Make a squaw ? What for the treaty make 
Le Loup into a squaw ? I no understand.” 

“ I think Mr. Logan must tell you the story,” said Miss 
McGregor, “if he is not wanted just yet to see after his 
men. We are speaking of an incident that took place at 
the treaty which was held at the Butte des Morts last 
week. ” 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

There being little time to spare, the young bourgeois 
made the narrative which he began at Miss McGregor’s 
instance as succinct as possible. 

An old Menomonee woman, upon the treaty-ground, 
made a complaint to her Father, the Governor, that a 
young man of her tribe had beaten her daughter — in fact, 
had almost killed her. The young lady was presented as 
evidence of the justice of her complaint. She told a piteous 
story, which touched the heart of the Governor and drew 
from him a promise that he would attend to her ca^. The 
name of the young man was given, and the matter inquired 
into. 

The chiefs and braves were summoned before the Com 


* Frenchman. 


236 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


missioners, the young man being present. They were told 
the circumstances of the case — informed that none but a 
woman would be guilty of such a cowardly act — that the 
young man had shown himself to be nothing but a woman, 
with none of the elements of a brave in his composition — 
that an example must be made of such a foolish fellow. 
It was, therefore, determined to have him dressed in a 
woman’s apparel and exhibited upon a mound which stood 
in the midst of the treaty-ground. 

The culprit was, accordingly, brought out in full costume 
— his hair clubbed behind a la squaw, rings on, his fingers, 
ear-bobs in his ears, an ornamented match-ee-ko-tah or pet- 
ticoat, red and blue leggings, and all the paraphernalia of 
the sex. Addresses were made by many of those present, 
all tending to cover him with shame, and which were 
greeted by the women and children with great applause. 
After the bystanders had enjoyed their fun for an hour or 
more, the metamorphosed gallant was told that he Avas at 
liberty to go and see if her could find any young man who 
would take him for a wife. He broke from the assemblage 
on a run, amid the shouts and whoops of all present ; and 
that was the last that was heard of him during the treaty.* 

“Mais, mais,” exclaimed M. Tremblay, for whose grati- 
fication the story had been told, “ what a horror I to strike 
the fair sec! le scelerat! But I tink it not too polite in de 
Governor to turn him into one woman because he act 
bad I” 

“I quite agree with you, monsieur,” said Miss Mc- 
Gregor, rising. “ And now we must do our best to aid 

* The above anecdote having been given to the public in a somewhat 
different form, the writer has taken the liberty of transcribing this ver- 
sion frojn the manuscript journal of one present at the scene — a person 
whose dicta in matters relating to our red brethren are esteemed unques- 
tionable. 


MARK LOGANy TUB BOURGEOIS. 


231 


Michaud, who is waiting, I see, to take possession of our 
mess-basket and place it among the rest of the hutin.^^^ 

It was quite wonderful the celerity with which, under 
the direction of the bourgeois and old Michaud, the tent 
was demontee, and all things packed and ready for trans- 
portation across the portage, only a couple of small tents 
being left to afford shelter to the ladies during the time 
they might choose to remain at their present station. Ma- 
deleine watched with interest the process of covering the 
boats with their canvas prelarts, then of attaching a rope 
to each bow, to be carried over the shoulder of a leader or 
guide, while the sides of the boats were manned by detach- 
ments of sturdy voyageurs, who, making their way waist- 
deep through the foaming rapids, helped to conduct their 
charge along its perilous way. There were, also, in each 
boat, men with long, stout poles, with which to aid in 
releasing their craft should it become stuck and jammed 
among the boulders which encumbered the channel. 

“How I wish Grace were here I how she would enjoy 
all this said Madeleine to herself. 

It was indeed an exhilarating spectacle, the boat in 
which stood Moa-way as pilot leading off, and soon almost 
hidden amid the foam, while his voice rang out from time 
to time in an Indian whoop that might well startle the bird 
in its nest or the beast in his lair. 

Michaud, as adjutant, was not wanting in his part of the 
chorus, but chimed in, from time to time, with, — 

“Avance, avance, nos gens. I Ah-h, sacre mon diable, 
nous voila plantesi Pousse, pousse I souleve, souleve un 
petit brinl Tout d’accord ; voila, voila, elle marche. Whoop! 
whoop I who-o-o-op T’f 

* Freight, • 

f Pull away, men ! Ah, the deuce ! there we are, stuck ! Push, push ; 
raise up a little bit ! All together; there, there, now she goes. Whoop ! 


238 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


And those in charge of the boats which followed emu- 
lated the vigorous old voyageur, and shouted and swore 
in good set terms to the best of their ability. 

As the last boat had passed up the Chute, or chief fall, 
and the little fleet toiled its way along through the rapids 
close under the overhanging bank, choosing the channels 
where the current was smoothest, the sounds became 
mingled into one general volume, like the fanfare of a 
trumpet softened by distance and by the murmur of the 
rushing waters. 

“Where is Mr. Logan asked Miss McGregor, ap- 
proaching her sister from the place where she had been 
inspecting the heaped-up cargoes and making divers in- 
quiries of the clerk who had them in charge. “ I thought 
he was here with you.’’ 

“ With me ? No ; he has gone in one of the boats.” 

“Well, perhaps, on the whole, that is better.” 

Madeleine looked at her sister in surprise. 

“I mean,” said Monica^ “ that, as he is new to this 
route, it is perhaps better that he should acquaint himself 
with it thoroughly; still, I was not aware he was gone.” 
Then, murmuring to herself, “ How backward he is to take 
advantage of the opportunities I afford him 1 Is it pride, 
or is it prudence ?” 

It was a very warm morning. As the sun mounted, in 
the heavens, it was no longer comfortable to remain 
sketching upon the bank, and Madeleine was driven to the 
shelter of the little tent, where her sister was already 
seated with a book. She was not reading, however, as 
Madeleine soon perceived ; she only turned over the leaves 
restlessly for a while, then she would fall into a reverie. 
At length she said, — 

“ I wonder how long it will take them to get the boats 
to the end of the portage?” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


239 


“About a couple of hours, if they have good luck, I 
think the bourgeois said. The boats must be heavy, for I 
observed that they left a part of the loading in them.” 

“ Yes, such as cannot be hurt by the spray. It must 
be two hours already since they left.” 

Oh, no; it is only an hour and a quarter.” 

Miss McGregor had no watch. Madeleine’s had been 
sent her by her father as a Ghristmas-gift the year before. 
Her sister looked at it, and remembered with bitterness 
that it had never occurred to him to make her a similar 
present. 

“ He has, to be sure, given me money,” she said, 
mentally ; “ he has never been stingy towards me,, and 
perhaps he thought I would treat myself to a watch. But 
why should I ? My hours are not so. happy that I should 
keep count of them. Treat myself? Of what value are 
the toys we purchase for ourselves? A gift, a token of 
affection, is what one prizes, however small its intrinsic 
worth may be ; yet how few such have I received !” 

She could not remain tranquilly beside her sister. It 
was in vain to try to fix her attention on her book, and 
conversation was out of the question ; they had too little 
in common. All the topics of mutual interest had been 
exhausted during the first weeks of their reunion — there 
was nothing left to narrate, or .inquire about, or sympathize 
over. A sudden thought occurred to her. 

“ Where is Monsieur ?” 

“Asleep in the tent yonder,” said her sister, laughing. 
“ He has been in rather a taking about having had to 
breakfast so early ; now he is making himself amends by 
dreaming, I suppose, of the ten pretty children and the 
little angel of a wife.” ^ ■ 

“He’ll not sleep long, I dare say,’’ said Monica. “If 
you don’t mind, I think I’ll walk to the other end of the 


240 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


portage. I know the path well ; in fact, there is no mis- 
taking it. It is best that I should be there when the 
boats arrive, to see the men sent back without delay, after 
the loading.^’ 

Why without delay asked Madeleine. “ Will there 
not be plenty of time? I don’t understand this hurry. 
Some one said that we were already more , than twenty- 
four hours in advance of the other boats ; and if we have 

got to wait till they overtake us ” 

I have no thoughts of waiting one moment beyond 
what is necessary for reloading the boats and getting under 
way.” 

“But we have the positive orders of the commanding 
officer.” 

“ His orders are nothing to me, now that we are out of 
his reach.” 

“ Is there not danger— a penalty? Won’t it bring the 
bourgeois— that is, won’t it bring us all — into trouble?” 

“ If there is any penalty or trouble, it will fall on me. I 
take the responsibility — I am the head in this affair. We 
are off again just as soon as the boats can be got ready, 
and if you are as anxious to get to your father as I have 
reason to believe, you will expedite the voyage all that is 
in your power.” 

“All that is in my power ?” repeated Madeleine. “ That 
is very little, surely. What can I do ?” 

“You can, at least, refrain from interposing objections 
which would certainly, with me, not have the slightest 
weight.” 

So saying. Miss McGregor quitted her sister, and was 
soon lost to view, as she ascended the steep, winding path 
which led to the forest-crowned summit. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


241 


CHAPTER XXXIL 

The chorus of voices warned Monica, as she walked, of 
the progress the boats were making, and presently an 
opening in the foliage gave her a clear view of what was 
passing below. 

It was the last boat that was being poled and dragged 
along the now placid waters. She hastened her steps to- 
wards the landing-point at the farther end of the portage. 
Some of the boats were already there, and being moored 
fast, which preliminary accomplished amid shouts and 
jests and no small amount of pushing and scrambling, the 
voyageurs leaped on shore, and, each choosing bis own 
place of repose, were soon stretched at ease, smoking the 
pipe which was to cheer and refresh after their arduous 
toil. 

Moa-way was making ready his store of kinnikinnick 
with which to solace his well-tasked throat, when Miss 
McGregor made her appearance on the overhanging bank 
and beckoned to him. 

I am sorry to incommode you, Moa-way, but we have, 
as yet, had no opportunity of fully concerting our plans 
for the next few days.” She returned a few rods upon the 
path, the Ottawa following her ; then, drawing aside from 
the road, she seated herself on the trunk of a fallen tree 
under the shelter of a covert which protected them frbm 
observation. Moa-way was sufficiently civilized to do the 
same at her bidding, though, truth to tell, the lap Of his 
mother earth would have been a preferable seat to him. 

“ How long do we stop here was the young lady’s 
first question. 


21 


242 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ Three hours — four hours — till the men have smoked 
their pipes and reloaded the boats. 

“ And after that we are off. Where do they boil their 
kettle 

“ Near Four-Legs’ village.” 

That is the country of the Puans.” 

“Yes, but we shall put the river between us and our 
friend Four-Legs.” 

“ They have canoes.” 

“Yes, and the Ghee-mo-ko-mon'*' have guns.” 

“ Oh, it is not of violence I am afraid ; but, of course, a 
little bird has whispered the chief that our boats have been 
detained all this time by the commanding officer. Four- 
Legs, we know, is wishing .now to make friends with his 
Great Father and save his people from the horrors of war. 
Will he use, do you think, any stratagems to detain us ?” 

“Kah-ween,” said Moa-way, in an accent of scorn. 
“ Why should he ?” ' 

“ For this reason. If the chiefs have made up their 
minds to surrender Wau-hig-sootsh-kah, they may fear that 
I would warn him and disappoint them.” 

“ They have not promised to give up L’Oiseau Rouge— 
they will not do it.” 

“ If I could only be assured of that 1” said Miss' Mc- 
Gregor, clasping her hands.. “ But we must leave nothing 
to chance. Who knows what resolution they may sud- 
denly take ? Will the bourgeois rest all night at the 
camping-ground you speak of?” 

“ Yes — the men will be tired.” 

“ But we can be off at a very early hour to-morrow 
morning?” . 

“Yes — and cross the lake to the Grand Butte”— he 


* Americans — literally, Big Knives. 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


243 


looked up at the sky — “there are clouds that will bring 
wind — it will be from the west— it will hinder rather than 
help us.” 

Miss McGregor gave a sigh of vexation. “The men 
must pull the harder, then,” she said. “ You will cheer 
them on, Moa-way. Then at the Butte you leave us, and 
make all possible speed across the country to the Portage. 
Oh that I had but some vehicle, or a woman’s saddle, 
that! might travel those seventy miles by land, instead of 
crawling the long, winding, tedious way by water 1” 

“ I shall sleep at Ma-zhee-gaw-gaw’s village, or perhaps 
at Green Lake, to-morrow night,” said the Ottawa. 

“ And in the morning hasten on to the Barribault- ” 

“ Ko— L’Oiseau Rouge* will be at Lac des BoeufSjf in 
the lodge of Le Tonnerre qui Roule. ”J 

“ How do you know that ?” 

“ It was told me. He will be at the appointed spot 
when you arrive.” 

“ That is well — my heart is lighter now. I know, Moa- 
way, I may depend on your fidelity. I shall not be dis- 
appointed through your delay. Let me but find Wau-nig- 
sootsh-kah at Lake Puckaway, as he promises ; that is all 
I ask.” 

“ Have no fears. I shall seek out L’Oiseau Rouge at the 
first moment of my arrival, and if by any chance he has 
not come to the rendezvous, I shall travel right on to the 
Portage. The heart of L’Oiseau Rouge is heavy — I may 
find him sick in his lodge.” 

“ At the Barribault 

“ No — by the side of one of the little lakes beyond the 
trading-house of Lapierre.” 

“ Go to him, go to him, Moa-way. Well may his heart 


The Red Bird. 


t Buffalo Lake. 


J Whirling Thunder — a chief. 


244 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


be heavy. His people crushed to earth, their very name 
about to be blotted out, a mark for persecution, oppression, 
and scorn I And he — but, Moaway, bring him to me at 
Lake Fuckaway. Our boats must be there by the day after 
to-morrow. The bourgeois will make all speed for my sake. 
And now go and smoke your pipe with old Michaud. I 
will sit here awhile by myself. My heart is sad and 
wretched, while thinking on my unhappy cousin.” 

The Ottawa returned to his companions, and Miss 
McGregor sat a long, long time plunged in a profound 
reverie. Her thoughts went back from the present, and 
travelled over years of alternate bliss and sorrow. Every 
event, almost every word, of the past, from her early 
girlhood to the last few troubled weeks, seemed to come up 
in array before her; and even the future, with its possible 
horrors, its certain desolation, formed a part of the shitting 
pageant. 

She was so absorbed as to be lost to outward objects, 
and yet she had a faint impression of having seen, through 
the interstices of her leafy covert, the bourgeois passing 
along the path, on his return to the camping-ground. 
Then ail was again quiet; for how long' a time she could 
not tell, she had thought and felt and suffered so much. 

At length there were again sounds, from the direction of 
the foot of the rapids, of persons slowly approaching — a 
light step and a firm, manly tread ; there were also voices 
that she could not mistake. Her pulses suddenly stopped, 
for she recognized the soft, murmuring tones which are not 
used by mere acquaintances as they pass along the way. 
Just as the steps came opposite her retreat, and where her 
eye could take in, without screen, the figures of the bour- 
geois and her sister, the veil of the latter caught On a pro- 
jecting branch, and lifted her broad hat, which owing to 
the heat was untied, quite off her head. Madeleine laughed 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 245 

merrily as it swung in the air. Logan seized and released 
it ; and, smoothing lightly back her hair, which had by the 
movement been rumpled and disarranged, he stooped and 
snatched a kiss ere replacing it ; then, as if the temptation 
were too great to be resisted, he gathered her towards him 
in a close, fervent embrace. 

It was the work of a moment ; the hat was again set- 
tled, and before Monica could collect her amazed senses 
he had drawn the hand of the young girl under his arm, 
and they were walking quietly and leisurely out of sight. 

So stunned and bewildered was Miss McGregor that for 
the first moments she sat perfectly passive, her hands 
dropped upon her lap, and her ideas whirling indistinctly 
through her brain. At length she spoke : — 

“ So, it has come to this I She, with all her pride I A 
McGregor of the McGregors I So deceitfully quiet and 
demure, too 1 And I, with all my penetration, have been 
reproving her for her reserve and distance of manner I 
There, at least, I must exonerate him — he has not labored 
for concealment ; I have seen it all. But Madeleine I the 
little, modest, delicate girl I” Her lip curled in scorn. 
“ Only one little month ! And a person in his position !’' 

Here Monica’s conscience became painfully admonitory. 
Who had taught her young sister to make light of the bar- 
rier which pride was, at first, ready enough to rear between 
herself and the bourgeois ? Who had planned and com 
trived? Who had encouraged the young man in a way 
but for which he would never have presumed to lift his 
eyes to his master’s daughter ? And if he had not wooed, 
Madeleine had not been won. No; with all her bitter 
feelings towards her sister, Monica was forced to admit 
that the young man must have pleaded well his. cause be- 
fore his suit had found a favorable hearing. 

What was now to be done ? What would be the result 
21 * 


246 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

and the winding-up of this unlooked-for turn of affairs, 
this crisis that she had speculated upon, without dreaming 
that it could actually come to pass? How was she to 
prison back the waters she had herself let loose ? Alas ! 
that was a thing not to be thought of. Monica knew too 
much of the power of almighty love’' to have the slightest 
hope^that any intervention of her own, as things now stood, 
would avail aught. 

“ Madeleine would either retort upon me the arguments 
she has heard me advance touching the limits of a father’s 
authority, or she would quietly and ^without controversy 
go her own way in the matter, as she has done all along. 
No ; my interference would do no good. It is too late now ; 
there is nothing but to let things take their course, and 
come what come may. Of course they must not have a 
hint that I suspect the game that is going on, for we are 
in no position to bring matters to a rupture. All I can do 
is to watch them closely till I get her safe back to my 
father. My father ! What will he say ? What will he 
think of the manner in which I have fulfilled my promise ? 
Oh, if I had not undertaken this ungrateful task! If I had 
only remained at home, all that has taken place would 
nev^er have happened I Wau-nig-sootsh-kah would sooner 
have cut off his right hand than have joined an expedition 
into our neighborhood with evil intent, had I been there!” 

Her mind diverted from one perplexity by another and 
predominating trouble, Miss McGregor roused herself and 
went to find M. Tremblay and to punish him for the neg- 
ligent manner in which he had discharged the trust com- 
mitted to him. This she accomplished by a demand of the 
alarmed and bewildered gentleman, as she unceremoniously 
waked him from his slumber, where she could find her 
sister. 

“ Mais, mais! Miss Madeleine? She cannot be loosed I 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


247 


She cannot fall into de big deep water I Ah I mon Dieu 
cried the poor monsieur, fairly dancing about in his distress, 
“Ah I Miss Monique! Ah! your respectable fader! I 
nevair, nevair! Miss Madeleine! Miss Madeleine!” And 
when he had run hither and thither, and shouted, and wiped 
his eyes, and wrung his hands, for a sufficient time, Miss 
McGregor, feeling that she had insured the most lynx-like 
watchfulness for the future, condescended to put a period 
to his agony by informing him that her sister was safe at 
the other end of the portage. 

“ It would be well,” she remarked to the poor gentleman, 
as she kept pace with his brisk steps along the brow of the 
hill, “ that we should choose our times for sleeping with 
discretion, seeing that we are approaching a territory where 
it cannot be affirmed that all the inhabitants are friendly 
or even pacific.” 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

The voyageurs had smoked their pipes, and had after- 
wards, by dint of numerous journeys, brought across the 
brow of the high bank the whole amount of heavy lading 
and repacked the boats. They were a numerous company, 
and, under the supervision of the bourgeois and bid Michaud, 
they had worked with a will. 

The clerks, too, bore their part in expediting matters ; 
but it was Michaud who was the inspiring genius. He had 
ever some joke, some witticism, some tour, by which to 
raise a laugh and dissipate the sense of fatigue caused by 
toil and heat. The mangeurs de lard, or new hands, were 
particularly the objects of his pleasantry. 


248 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Ah 9a !” he exclaimed, seizing bj both legs a partic- 
ularly spare, spindle-shanked young fellow, who, having 
had occasion to wade around to the stern of his boat, was 
at the moment stooping forward to unroll and bring into 
place his canvas trousers, “ Ah 9a I — enfin je les ai !”* 
LSche-moi, Idche-moi, sacre cried the voyageur, in 
an indignant tone. 

“Oh, excusez,” said Michaud, with an astonished look, 
and letting go the legs, “a thousand pardons-— I thought 
it was the tongs that I mislaid last night at the camp.’’ 

The unlucky young fellow was called nos pincettes from 
that hour. 

While the labor of loading was going on, there could be 
no regular songs or choruses — these require always the 
dip of the oar or the paddle for an accompaniment ; but 
the light-hearted Michaud, in a voice which age had but 
slightly impaired, would troll forth, for the amusement of 
his auditors, some refrain like the following : — 

“ On attrappe une fillette, 

Mon enfant, S, pen pres 

Comme un soldat prend les poulets. 

S’il en voit un hors de sa cage, 

II jette du pain, du fromagc, 

Tiens, petit, petit, petit; 

Le poulet suit, 

Et crao ! 

Le voila dans son sac V* 

Which, if he had had sufficient knowledge of English, he 
might have rendered, — 

" The way to catch a tender maid 
Is pretty much the same 
As by the roguish soldier played 
To coax the barn-yard game. 


Aha ! I’ve got them at last, 
f Let me go, let me go, confound you ! 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


249 


• , . When one outside the coop he sees, 

He throws some crumbs of bread or cheese, 

Calls, Pretty, pretty, pretty ! 

The pullet follows — more’s the pity— 

For, crio, crac ! • . 

She’s in his haversack.*’ 

The afternoon was well advanced before the kegs, ham« 
pers, boxes of guns, and merchandise of various sorts, had 
been transferred to their appropriate places j then, to the 
cheering ‘strains of “La Jolie Bergere,’’ boat after boat 
filed off, the chorus, — 

Lfive ton pied, majolicbergSre, 

Leve ton pied legerement,” . 

seeming to prompt, like an inspiration, the light and uni* 
form lifting of the oars. 

The young ladies joined their voices, for Monica had 
resolved to turn her eyes from all depressing considerations 
until her interview with the Red Bird should be over. 

“ It will be of no use to commence an admonition to 
Madeleine now,’^ she said. “If I speak to her, I shall 
have to show Logan by my manner how I regard his pre- 
sumption ; and to give him offence, just at this time, is a 
thing not to be thought of. A few days more or less can 
make little difference, particularly as Monsieur and I will 
both be upon the watch to prevent a word in private be- 
tween them.’? 

Everything had been admirably arranged for the comfort 
of the- young ladies on their voyage. In the centre of their 
boat was a small cabin — a wooden frame-work with cur- 
tains of painted oil-cloth, which could be rolled up to admit 
the air and light, or closed to exclude the wind and rain. 
The bourgeois had also hung within it a large mosquito- 
net in such a way that it could be made available should 


250 


MARK LOGAN, TJIE BOURGEOIS. 


those pestiferous insects prove troublesome at any of the 
points where they would have to boil their kettle.” 

Never was there a more lovely sunset than that on which 
the little fleet pulled in at their camping-ground opposite 
the village of old Four-Legs. Miss McGregor had looked 
out with closest vigilance for renewed signals of good un- 
derstanding between her sister and the bourgeois, but all 
in vain. They might have been utter strangers — as far as 
she could detect, they neither looked at nor spoke to each 
other. A slight circumstance, after a time, showed that 
Logan was not always upon his guard. 

As the boats were just arrivingatthe end of their voyage, 
a bird that had been sitting upon a low, projecting bough, 
looking down into the stream, Was startled from his perch, 
and, taking flight, winged his way to a more distant station. 

“ What bird is that ? I don’t remember ever to have 
seen one like it before,” said Madeleine. 

“ Martin-pecheur I mauvais augure,” shouted Michaud, 
who was on the bow of the boat. 

‘‘Is it the kingfisher?” 

“Yes,” said the bourgeois, replying to her question'; 
then in a lower tone, as if to himself, “ the halcyon of olden 
time” — and there was a glance at the young lady which 
did not escape her sister. 

“ I do not see, then, why Michaud should say the king- 
fisher is unlucky,” pursued Madeleine. 

“ Perhaps the voyageurs have some superstition about 
him,” said the bourgeois. 

“We are not good friends to him in our family,” re- 
marked Moa-way, who. was seated within hearing. “ We 
wolves are not too fond of Monsieur Martin-pecheur — us.” 

“ And why not ? They look very innocent.” 

“Ah, we have our story. It is because we are related 
to Nanna-bozho. And for looking — a person may look 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


251 


very innocent, and yet be thinking much mischief all the 
time.” 

Miss McGregor involuntarily glanced at her sister. 
Madeleine made no application of Moa-way’s remark — she 
was deep in another subject. 

“ Nanna-bozho 1 I have heard of him, or read of him. 
Who is he ? What does he do 

“ He sets all things right that go wrong. He punishes 
those who do wrong. If one takes the sheets of bark, for 
instance, from a birch-tree that his neighbor had begun to 
peel, then Nanna-bozho gives him a lesson. Just as the 
robber begins to make his bark into mococks, along comes 
Nanna-bozho and throws among his work a handful of the 
fine, narrow leaves that he has stripped from the spruce or 
hemlock. Presently the bark begins to be all sprinkled 
through with little brown, rough spots, like spruce-leaves, 
destroying all its beauty, and sometimes causing it to leak. 
You must often have seen them.” 

“ Yes,” said Madeleine, laughing; “but I did not know 
before how they came there.” 

“ And so,” continued Moa-way, “ with the maple sap. 
If a selfish fellow takes away his neighbor’s kettle from a 
fine sugar-tree where it is collecting a good deal of sap, 
and sets his own empty kettle there, he need not expect to 
make anything by his trick — Nanna-bozho takes care that 
when he comes in the morning he shall find nothing better 
than rain-water in place of the nice maple sap that he 
expected.” 

“ But why is it that your family don’t like the kingfisher, 
Moa-way ? Ho they ever do mischief to the wolves ?” 

M. Tremblay was, by this time, out of the boat, and 
ready to help the young ladies to land. Madeleine gave 
him her hand as she followed her sister. “ But remember, 
Moa-way,” she said, turning to the Ottawa, “ after supper 


252 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


you must tell me the story you spoke of, about your family 
and these birds. I am quite curious to know why you do 
not like them.” 

Moa-way asked nothing better than to be the orator of 
the party. He prided himself upon his command of the 
French, which his intercourse with his sister’s family and 
with the voyageurs through the country gave him the 
means of preserving; and, besides, he was naturally talk- 
ative, and fond of the marvellous. Therefore, as he was 
secure of a numerous auditory when the labors of the boat- 
men were over for the day, he did not allow himself to be 
long importuned, but as soon as all things had been made 
ready for the following morning (Moa-way had no idea of 
being interrupted when he had once got a going), he was 
prepared to gratify his “ pretty little fawn” with the story 
she was so curious to hear. 


CHAPTER XXXIY. 

“ Nanna-bozho lived in the olden time, with his brother, 
on the borders of a beautiful lake. This brother bore the 
form of a yvoM— Moa-way, you know — that is where we 
are related ; and as he was a great hunter, and brought 
home to his brother abundant supplies of game of every 
description, particularly venison, which was his favorite 
food, Nanna-bozho lived in great luxury and comfort. 

“There was one injunction that he was careful to repeat 
often to his brother when he started for the chase : ‘ When 
you are returning to the lodge with your prey, be sure 
never to cross the lake on your way home. However tired 
you may be, and however late the hour, you must make 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


253 


the circuit around it; for deep under its waters there 
dwells an evil spirit — a prince of darkness — of great cun- 
ning and cruelty, into whose hands you might chance to 
fall.^ 

“ The brother for a long time obeyed faithfully the in- 
junction of Nanna-bozho ; but one night, being much be- 
lated, he arrived, tired and chilled with the cold, at a point 
on the lake shore directly opposite his brother’s lodge. 
He looked at the waters — they were bound fast in ice. 
Across the whole expanse he could see no moving object ; 
everything was lonely and tranquil. 

“ ‘Surely there can be no harm in crossing the ice,’ he 
said to himself. ‘ If it were swimming through the water, 
then, indeed, there might be danger; but over this I can 
trot without a person being a bit the wiser.’ 

“ So, setting at naught his brother’s caution, he entered 
on the forbidden path. He had proceeded but a very few 
steps when suddenly the ice cracked under him, then 
parted, and he sank, to rise no more. 

“Nanna-bozho waited in his lodge the return of his 
brother. No brother came, and, what was a matter of 
grief and lamentation, no venison or other game to appease 
his hunger. All night he watched, wondering and be- 
wailing. 

“ As day advanced, he thought he would set forth in 
quest of his brother ; and as he walked along the path by 
which the latter was wont to approach the lodge, he sang, 
mournfully, — 

“ Oh ! alas ! my brother the Wolf is dead I Who will 
bring me now the nice head of the slaughtered deer?’ 

“ Then he began to upbraid himself. ‘ That is not what 
I ought to sing, nor what I meant to sing. I ought to 
lament for my brother alone. Let me try again.’ 

“Yet still the dirge fashioned itself into the same strain, — 
22 


254 


\ 

MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

‘ Who will bring me the nice ribs of venison ? Alas I 
ah me 1 who will bring me the nice fat haunch V 

“ By the time he had deplored each portion of the animal 
which his brother was accustomed to set before him, he 
arrived at that spot on the border of the lake where the 
latter had ventured upon the ice. Hfe saw the prints of 
footsteps, and at once suspected that they were the tracks 
he was seeking; and, coming closer, he observed that the 
ice had been broken through, leaving a large open glade. 

“ He look'cd around, hoping to see some animal of whom 
he could make inquiries. No living object met his eye, 
save a little kingfisher seated on a leafless bough which 
projected over the water. Nanna-bozho approached him, 
but the bird took no notice. 

“ ‘ My brother,’ said Nanna-bozho, ‘ what are you gazing 
at so intently down in the depths of the lake 

“Without raising his head, the kingfisher replied, — 

“ ‘ They have killed Nanna-bozho’s brother, and they are 
about to cut him up. I am waiting in hopes they will 
throw some of the refuse bits this way, that I may make 
a good supper.’ 

“ ‘ What 1’ cried Nanna-bozho, in a fury, ‘you are re- 
joicing over the death of my brother, and hoping to feast 
upon him ?’ 

“ With that be clutched at the neck of the poor king- 
fisher to throttle him ; but being on the alert, and very 
agile, the bird made a sudden backward movement, and 
succeeded in escaping the death-grip. The hand of Nanna- 
bozho only ruffled up and reversed the feathers on the back 
of his head, which have ever since stood erect, as you see 
them at the present day.” 

“ Oh, mais, mais I and to think we never knew how this 
came I” murmured the simple voyageurs, who were seated 
at a little distance,, quite absorbed in the narrative. 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOIRGEOIS. 


255 


Je conte b’an que ce M. Nanna-bojio ait queu’qu’ jour 
mis la griffe sur le bee de not’ bon Coquillard !”* said 
Michaud, with a mischievous nod towards a comrade 
whose nose pointed in the direction of the zenith. 

Coquillard clapped his hand to his nose, amid the laugh- 
ter of his companions. 

“ Silence, nos gens,” commanded the bourgeois, “ and 
let Le Loup continue his story.” 

The Ottawa went on : — “ Having ascertained the fate of 
his brother, Nanna-bozho’s thoughts were now bent on 
revenge. To this end, he resolved to take his station near 
the spot where his brother had perished, and await an op- 
portunity for dealing with the evil Prince who lived at the 
bottom of the lake. As he was on his way to do this, he 
met a company of mice. 

“ ‘ Come and live with me in this nice warm nest,’ he 
said, opening his vest. The mice accepted his invitation, 
and the party soon arrived at the spot where his brother’s 
footsteps had disappeared. Here Nanna-bozho transformed 
himself into an old blackened stump of a tree, placing within 
his hollow centre the family of mice and his well-tried bow 
and arrows, for which he hoped ere long to find a use. 

“It was the custom of the Demon of the lake to come 
up occasionally to take the air and amuse, himself on the 
shore; but, as his habits of life rendered this recreation 
somewhat perilous, he always took care to send forward a 
detachment of his guards (of which, living in great state, 
he kept a numerous retinue) to reconnoitre, and report 
whether the coast was clear. 

“ After the matter was supposed to be in a measure blown 
over about Nanna-bozho’s brother, the Demon, who, you 
must know, was in the form of a monstrous serpent, deter- 


^ I am of opinion that Mr. Nanna-bozho may some day have put his 
paw on the beak of our good Coquillard. 


256 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


mined to take a season of enjoyment on the dry land. . He 
accordingly sent up to the surface a couple of. his trusty 
attendants, who were also serpents, to take an observation. 
The scouts surveyed the lake and its. environs. 

“‘I do not remember to have seen that old dry stump 
before,’ said one ; ‘indeed, I am certain that it never stood 
in that spot till now.’ 

“ ‘Excuse me,’ said the other, ‘ but it strikes me that I 
have observed it standing there this long time. How could 
it, by any possibility, have come there all of a sudden V 

“ Not being able to agree, they returned and reported the 
matter to their chief. 

“‘Go, both of you,’ he commanded, ‘encircle the old 
stump with your coils, and draw with all your might. If 
it is in reality anything but a stump, you will thus, de- 
tect it.’ 

“The two guards did as they were bid. They coiled 
their folds around and around the stump — then they drew 
and squeezed it with all their might. Poor Nanna-bozho^ 
being so closely pressed, had great difficulty to refrain 
from crying out.. He drew himself in as tight as possible, 
that he might not feel the coils of the serpents cutting into 
his bark ; and it was with a sigh of relief that he felt him- 
self released, when.histormentors were at length convinced 
that he was a veritable stump and, nothing more. 

“ The scouts returned and reported to their prince the re- 
sult of their experiment. The one, however, who had been 
the skeptic, could not help adding that ‘ he thought he 
heard a slight squeak just as they were withdrawing their 
embrace from the old stump.’ 

“ ‘ Then go again,’ said their chief; ‘put on more strength 
than before. Be sure you. do not return to me until you 
are fully satisfied.’ 

“ This time the two guards used redoubled efforts. They 


MARK LOGAN, TJIE BOURGEOIS. 


251 


squeezed poor Nauna-bozho with such force that lie was 
compelled to rid himself of the little mice that he had shel- 
tered in his bosom. As they ran forth from an opening in 
his side, the scouts shouted, — 

‘ Oh, it is indeed a stump ! It was the poor little mice 
that we heard squeaking.’ 

“ The account that they carried back to their prince was, 
this time, quite satisfactory. He rose from his home in 
tlie bed of the lake, and, accompanied by a concourse of his 
serpent guards and attendants, sought the shore, where, 
after basking and amusing themselves for awhile in the 
pleasant sunshine, they all fell asleep. 

‘ Now is my time,’ thought Nanna-bozho. lie drew 
forth his bow, and, aiming with care, sent an arrow straight 
into the breast of the sleeping monster ; this done, he stole 
quietly away and returned to his lodge. Here he brooded 
and brooded over the death of his brother, hardly com- 
forted by his act of vengeance, for be did not know how 
far it had been successful. 

'‘At length he stole abroad in search of news, hoping 
to learn that his enemy was dead and past all power of 
further mischief. As he walked moodily along, he met a 
very old and miserable-looking woman. 

“ ‘ Good-morning, mother,’ he said, accosting her. ‘What 
is the news ? What is going on in the world V 

Oh I don’t you know that the Demon of the lake is 
very ill — at the point of death V 

“ ‘ Indeed ! Is it so ? What is the matter with him V 

“ ‘ Somebody has shot an arrow straight into his heart. 
We think it was Nanna-bozho. However that may be, he 
is lying ill in his lodge, and they have called me to attend 
him. I am just now engaged in gathering roots and herbs 
to make a medicine for him which I think will cure him.’ 

“Nanna-bozho’s plans were laid in a twinkling. He 
22 * 


258 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


began by throttling the old dame ; then he divided her skin 
(there was but little else of her) and inclosed himself in it 
with so much care and art that no one could have doubted 
it was the old woman herself. Adopting her hobbling 
gait, he went to the borders of the lake, and, the attendants 
who were waiting for the crone being quite deceived, he 
was soon conducted into the royal presence. 

“ The wounded prince was lying upon his bed on the 
floor of the lodge, while around him were his numerous 
retinue, watching and waiting upon him. Nanno-bozho 
perceived that the arrow was still sticking in the wound he 
had inflicted. lie approached with an air of tenderness, 
and, feigning to minister to his patient, he pushed the arrow 
still deeper into the wound. The sufferer gave a dreadful 
groan, but the pretended nurse exclaimed, — 

“ ‘Ah 1 excellent I He is better — he is getting better.’ 

“ Presently she renewed her cares, and adroitly thrust 
in the weapon still deeper, crying out, as before, ‘He is 
doing well. The medicine is doing him good 1’ 

“ At the moment the poor prince was in his last agony, 
his attendants became aware of what was going on, and 
they one and all set up a shout, ‘ It is not the old woman 
— it is Nanna-bozho. Kill him I kill him I’ 

“ Away fled Nanna-bozho, dropping the skin of the old 
woman in his flight, while behind him pursued the yelling 
crew, with shouts of, — 

“ ‘ Chase him ! catch him I kill him I’ 

“ The waters of the lake rose around him as he gained 
the shore. They spread over the dry land, rising and 
rising behind him and almost overtaking him, as he strained 
every nerve to gain some high eminence which would 
prove a place of safety. 

“At length he attained a spot where the waters could 
not reach him, and here for a long, long time he lived a sad 


MARK LOQAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


259 


and solitary life, lamenting his dear brother the Wolf, who 
used to bring him such nice supplies of venison.”* 


CHAPTER XXXY. 

Miss McGregor found an opportunity for a few words 
of private conversation with the bourgeois before retiring 
to rest. 

“ I cannot doubt that you will agree with me,” she said, 
“ as to the necessity of putting a comfortable distance be- 
tween ourselves and the hordes who are following us. I 
do not speak so much of the soldiers ; though they are 
sometimes inclined to be lawless, I take it for granted that 
their officers will have them sufficiently under control. 
But for that bevy of undisciplined Menomonees and Wau- 
banakees which Colonel Bentley has pressed into his 
service, I confess I shrink from too close a contact with 
them I” 

“That I can easily believe,” said the bourgeois. 

Miss McGregor had hoped he would be prompt with the 
suggestion, “ Let us, then, press on as fast as possible, and 
keep out of their way ;” but he contented himself with listen- 
ing respectfully to what she should have further to propose. 


* The Indians of the Three Fires— that is, the Chippewas, Ottawas, and 
Pottowattamies — have a tradition of a universal deluge, and of the preser- 
vation of Nanna-bozho on an elevated point, in the manner of Noah upon 
Mount Ararat. Their legend has this difference, however, that they give 
to Nanna-bozho the credit of reconstructing the world from the small 
floating masses of grass and soil which he found means to gather as they 
drifted past him. 


260 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


‘‘It is true,” she continued, “that we are now some 
hours ahead of them- ” 

“ At least twenty-four hours,” said Logan ; “ and if we 
keep at the distance of one encampment from them we 
shall probably be safe from all annoyance.” 

Monica had said, in her self-communings during the last 
few hours, that she would, as far as lay in her power, undo 
the mischief she had already wrought, by placing a barrier 
between the two young people for the rest of the voyage. 
She struggled hard for a few minutes to preserve her 
integrity. 

“ Having lived all my life upon the frontier, and knowing 
these people so well ” she said, with some hesitation. 

“ Yes,” assented the bourgeois, “ that would be a reason 
why you would have no feeling of fear in regard to them.” 

Miss McGregor felt herself driven from her intrenchmcnt. 

“ It cannot be helped,” she said to herself. “ If I perish, 
I perish. He must not be sacrificed to a scruple. The 
end sanctifies the means; or, if not, I can atone. Are 
there not penances, fastings, vigils ?” She hurried to speak 
out : — 

“ For myself, as you say, I should be equal to meeting 
all sorts of inconveniences, perhaps dangera. But I con- 
fess the case becomes quite different when it is a question 
of exposing my timid, gentle little sister to what must 
necessarily be our position in case tho fleet which is on 
the way should overtake us and we be thrown pell-mell 
together.” 

“ I have not much fear of their overtaking us,” said the 
young man. “ Still, as their boats come light — only the 
ammunition and provisions of the command being, as I 
understand, on board — their portages will be very quickly 
accomplished. And, after all, it is perhaps safest not to 
leave matters to any contingency. We had better make 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 261 

another early start to-morrow morning, and try if we can- 
not put still another twenty-four hours between us and our 
distasteful neighbors. Happily, we shall be quit of them 
at the Portage, which Michaud tells me he expects to reach 
in four days from this.” 

It was necessary for Miss McGregor to mark her recog- 
nition of the young man’s assent to her suggestions in a 
way that she was certain would be most acceptable to him. 

“By the way, Mr. Logan,” she said, “ I did not observe 
whether the clerks had had my sister’s guitar put in our 
little cabin, or whether it was packed away somewhere 
else. If it is where it can be conveniently got at, it may 
help to while away the hours of our stretch across the 
lake to-morrow.” 

“ I will see that it is in readiness,” said the bourgeois, 
cheerfully ; “ and I will give orders for carrying out the 
plans for extra dispatch to-morrow.” 

It was something of a disappointment to the young man 
to be compelled thus to expedite matters, for, truth to tell, 
he was in no hurry to get to the end of his journey. As 
things stood, however, there seemed no alternative. 

Miss McGregor, for her part, congratulated herself on 
having carried her point so easily. “ I should not have 
liked,” she said, “to have had recourse to my last weapon 
~a hint that I know all that is going on. He seecas to 
me the sort of person who might brave me and incite 
Madeleine to do the same. Ah ! it will be a tangled web 
that I shall have to unravel before I get to the end 1 But 
what matters it, if I but save him ?” 

The voyage across the beautiful Winnebago Lake and 
past its lovely islands was not all that the travellers had 
hoped for. The wind had risen during the night, and, as 
Moa-way had predicted, it was from a quarter that hin- 
dered rather than aided their progress. The men hoisted 


262 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


their sails, which did not help to steady the boats. “ La 
Vierge,”"^ whom the men, with scant ceremon3% vocifer- 
ously called upon to set matters right, seemed, as old Mi- 
chaud irreverently remarked to his next neighbor, in a 
particularly disobliging humor. The morning was chilly 
and damp — quite unlike the genial weather the party had 
been thus far favored with. 

To add to Miss McGregor^s discomfort, it was commu- 
nicated to her by Moa-way that a canoe had come stealthily 
over in the gray of the morning from Four-Legs’ village 
to warn her that the military were pressing vigorously 
their passage of the rapids and chutes, and that they were 
likely to overtake the Company’s boats after they should 
once get into smooth water. 

It was not Four-Legs himself who had sent the news — 
he, the selfish rogue, was too anxious to keep well with 
his Great Father at Washington (now that he knew that 
sword and bayonet were at his heels), to have thus given 
a spur to those who were acting in disobedience of Govern- 
ment orders. It was little Madame Four-Legs, who had 
dispatched to Moa-way the same Menomonee runner from 
whom she had received these tidings, and who now added 
to them the information that the commanding officer was 
in a towering passion at finding that the McGregor boats 
were getting beyond his reach and into the Winnebago 
country. 

It was of the utmost importance, Monica felt, to keep 
this last piece of information from the bourgeois. She was 
certain that his good judgment would revolt at the idea of 
putting himself into an attitude of rebellion to constituted 
authority. He must not suspect that he was doing more 
than securing quietness and comfort for the ladies under 


* The Virgin Mary. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOGRQKOIS. 


26'3 


his charge, at their evening encampments. As the success 
of her scheme depended on her keeping the young man 
entirely at her command, she simply apprised him that the 
forces under Colonel Bentley were making, as she had 
learned, rapid progress in their rear; she then crushed 
down her feelings of impatience and anxiety, and with a 
tranquil mien sang duet after duet with her sister, to the 
accompaniment of the guitar, and even made choice occa- 
sionally of songs in which Logan could be invited to bear 
a part. 

Nor was this all. She took care not to see the solicitous 
efforts of the latter to shield her sister from the cold wind 
as it would make itself felt occasionally through the cracks 
of the canvas curtains, which they were now obliged to let 
down for the shelter of the little cabin. The manner in 
which he heaped up articles of luggage as a barrier, and 
ransacked for cloaks and wrappings for Madeleine’s protec- 
tion, elicited no comment save a grateful smile or a nod of 
thanks ; and Monica prudently made herself entirely deaf 
to the tender inflections of his voice as he would express 
fears lest her sister should be incommoded by some source 
of discomfort over which he had no control. 

“ I cannot help it,” was still her cry. “ I will do penance 
. — I am ready to suffer.” 

What her sister and the young bourgeois were to suffer 
through her means, how she was to atone to them, she 
did not pause to consider. Compared with what she hoped 
to accomplish through their aid, all the woe that might be 
wrought for them was as dust in the: balance. 

The boats reached the farther shore of the lake in good 
season, entering again the river of which this sheet of water 
is merely an expanse. A very short pull farther, and they 
were floating over the clear, tranquil waters of Butte des 
Morts Lake. 


264 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

“ Kien, Madame Betty Moore ! Comment va la vieille 
shouted old Michaud, waving bonnet rouge in the direc- 
tion of a rising ground at the right. 

And where does that old lady live V a mangeur de 
lard ventured to inquire. 

“ Oh, just over there in that splendid chateau, with the 
tower and the chime of bells to call the people to her feasts, 
and with the gold ornaments hanging down from the roof 
that you may go and pick and fill your pockets with,’^ 
said Michaud, pointing to the old battered frame of a 
lodge, which, like a dirty skeleton keeping guard over an 
ash-heap, marked the place of a deserted Indian encamp- 
ment. 

Poor Gorbeil, who had once before been sent on a fooPs 
errand at Seul Choix, and wandered for an uncomfortable 
length of time in the woods in search of the farm-house and 
cows which were to furnish a pleasant addition to the 
evening nieal of the mischievous crews, hung his head in 
shame and busied himself with his row-lock, while the 
bourgeois shouted, “Whoop-la! arrive I arrive! scie, scie 
k la gauche !”f and the boat was run in at the spot where 
they were to deposit the Ottawa for his journey across the 
country — no one but himself and Miss McGregor knew 
upon what errand. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Along the serpentine mazes of the Fox River, in tra- 
versing which so much time is consumed while yet so little 
actual progress is made, the travellers pursued their way, 


How does the old lady do ? 
t Back water on the left. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


265 


without again receiving a hint of the whereabouts of the 
little squadron of the commanding officer, Monica, as ever, 
feverish and impatient — the bourgeois and Madeleine in 
the full glow of contentment, not caring, apparently, 
whether it were two weeks instead of two days that 
must intervene before they reached Lake Puckaway. 

They reached it at last. Thanks to the urgency of Miss 
McGregor, they were there early on the second afternoon 
after leaving Butte des Morts Lake. 

I suppose we do not go farther until to-morrow,^’ Miss 
McGregor remarked to the bourgeois as they drew near 
the usual camping-ground on the shore of the sluggish, 
green, rush-covered lake. 

“ Oh, yes — I see nothing to detain us. We will push 
on to Lac des Boeufs after the men have smoked their 
pipes.’’ 

“ My advice is to remain here. I have reason to believe 
that the Walking Mat has his lodge at Lac des Boeufs ; and 
we know that he is not too friendly to the Americans.” 

Poor Mau-zhay-mau-uee I the most quiet and peaceful 
among all the bands of the Ho-tshung-rahs ! 

“ If we are likely to come upon unfriendly Indians,” said 
the young man, “that alters the case. I will talk with 
Michaud about it.” And Michaud, fully alive to the 
charms of a kettle of corn soup, for which delicacy pork 
and baker’s bread formed, in his estimation, a very poor 
substitute, was quite willing to be afraid of the Walking 
Mat, or any other thing that walked, so that he could boil 
his kettle and make ready his favorite dish. 

Still, we must not forget that we are in danger of being 
overtaken by the commanding officer and his party,” said 
Miss McGregor. “ We shall have, ah uncomfortable reck- 
oning together, I doubt not, unless we get across the Por- 
tage and over into the Wisconsin before he pounces upon 

23 


266 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

us. I would recommend to you to have the men go to 
their rest at as early an hour as possible, that they may be 
roused with the dawn. Do we encamp on shore, or will 
it be most prudent to come on board again after we have 
taken our supper, and so sleep in the boats 

“ I prefer that the men should not be crowded together 
and cramped through the night — they are more fit for ser- 
vice after having had plenty of room to turn and stretch 
themselves in during their sleep. If you think the band 
of Indians you spoke of are likely to be troublesome (for, 
of course, they know perfectly well of our whereabouts), I 
can have out half a dozen pickets. I shall myself keep 
watch, at all events.” 

This was not what Miss McGregor wanted. 

“I have no such idea,” she said, earnestly. “If we 
were to thrust ourselves into the midst of Mau-zhay-mau- 
nee’s lodges, I would not, of course, answer for the security 
of our valuable property. But the Mat is not such a 
walker as to travel a dozen miles in the night for the 
pleasure of carrying back on his shoulders the booty he 
might filch. No ; have all safely slumbering at as early 
an hour as possible, and I will be surety for t^ quiet and 
safety of all things under our care.” 

The weather had changed again, and the evening was 
mild and delightful. The vast expanse of rushes, whence 
the lake derives its name, is a home for such myriads of 
mosquitoes that, even when the summer is past, they con- 
tinue to be tormenting. Logan had, therefore, brought 
from the boat the large mosquito-bar, and, with Michaud’s 
help, slung it to the trees which overshadowed the spot 
where the young ladies could most pleasantly take their 
evening meal. The mats were spread within it for a car- 
pet, and sundry small boxes did duty as seats and side- 
tables. Miss McGregor was restless — more so than her 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 267 

sister had ever seen her before. She wandered about the 
camping-ground, now talking with Michaud, anon ques- 
tioning the clerks, then exchanging short phrases with M. 
Tremblay. She would not remain still, to give her sister 
or the bourgeois an opportunity of remarking the agitation 
she could not entirely control. 

“ I shall see him again ! Two hours after the moon rises 
I shall see him again !” was the thought uppermost in her 
mind, and it gave a light to her eye and a brilliancy to her 
cheek which at length drew forth a remark from the bour- 
geois, as he stood brushing away, with a bough of wild 
laurustinus, the mosquitoes which buzzed around Madeleine 
and her sketch-book. 

“ How beautiful your sister is I I never saw that ex- 
cited, almost spiritual look in her countenance before this 
evening.” 

Madeleine’s gaze rested for a few minutes upon her. 

“ Monica is ill at ease,” she said. “ She is under the 
influence of some strong emotion — not an unhappy one, 
that is evident. I should rather say she is expecting some 
good news, though of what nature it is difiBcult to con- 
jecture.” 

Logan bent forward and whispered a few hurried words. 
Madeleine blushed, and a sweet smile played for a moment 
around her mouth ; but she made no reply, for her sister 
was approaching, and almost immediatel)^ the smoking, 
savory meal, which' stood in place of both dinner and 
tea, was brought and duly arranged under the mosquito- 
bar. 

“ Saint Bapteme !” exclaimed old Michaud, testily, as 
he dashed somethihg less than a hahdful of tormenting 
little insects out of his eyes and nose, and in sodoieg came 
near upsetting the tin colfee-pot he was cautiously intro- 
ducing under the muslin hanging. ‘‘ Pourquoi Je demon 


268 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


ne garde-t-il pas ces maudites betes pour piquer les h^re- 
tiques Jk-bas I’”*' 

“ Take care, Michaud,” said the bourgeois. “ What is 
that you are saying 

‘‘Seulement im petit mot, ’ienque pour badiner,”f said 
Michaud, scuffling away, greatly disconcerted at having 
thus forgotten himself. 

After the meal was over, And as Madeleine, seated within 
the airy walls of her little citadel, was watching the last 
rays of departing day which still lingered on the tops of 
the noble old forest trees, her sister, who had again rest- 
lessly wandered first in one direction, then in another, 
came in again under the mosquito-bar. 

“ It is the best plan for us to sleep in the boat to-night,” 
she said, in a low voice, “ and I ask it as a favor of you 
that you will retire early, and make no comment on what 
I may do. I tell you, in perfect confidence, that I expect 
Moa-way to meet me in the neighborhood of the camp to- 
night, to let me know whether it is perfectly safe for us to 
push on to the Portage without the escort of the military. 
I do not let this be known to anybody but you, for we all 
understand what cowards these Canadians are. If they 
take a panic they are just as likely to desert the. boats and 
take to the woods, by way of fleeing from the natives, as 
anything else. And though the bourgeois is doubtless as 
brave as a lion, still he is new to these people ; and, feeling 
the responsibility of his position, he may think it his duty 
to lag behind and wait for the soldiers and their volunteer 
allies, when there is not, in fact, the slightest occasion 
for it.’^ 

“Do you think, really and truly, Monica, that we are 

* Why does not the devil keep those cursed beasts to sting the heretics 
down below ? 

t Only a little word by way of a joke. 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


269 


quite safe asked her sister, with an apprehensive look. 
“ What if the savages — I mean the Puans^should have 
got intelligence of our being so near them, and have com- 
bined to fail on us and get possession of the guns and 
powder we are carrying, or perhaps even plotted to 
commit some more dreadful act? We are only, they tell 
me, about twenty miles now from the Portage, where so 
many are assembled. I cannot forget poor Gagnier and 
that dreadful Red Bird— I must call him so, though he is 
our cousin.” 

Madeleine, whose fears had been suddenly aroused by 
the words no less than the mysterious deportment of her 
sister, was as pale as death ; her lips trembled as she con- 
jured up a picture of the horrors that might be impending 
over her. Miss McGregor stifled the anger which her sis- 
ter’s epithet inspired. Calmness was necessary to avert 
suspicion, for Madeleine was, as she was ^ware, tolerably 
penetrating. . 

‘‘ I have no idea that there is the slightest danger,” she 
said, “ but it is to assure myself of the facts, so that if it is 
positively safe we 'may hurry on and keep out of the way 
of this motley crew who are following us, that I am anx- 
ious to seek information from Moa-way.” 

“ But what is to prevent Moa-way’s coming here and 
giving all the information he possesses to the bourgeois 
and the rest of us, in the light of day? He is not, as a 
general thing, particularly diffident.” 

Miss McGregor’s answer was given a little pettishly. 

“ M^ell, Madeleine, you may know a good deal more of 
Indian character and habits than I do — probably that is 
the case — but, with the light I have, I am inclined to think 
it safest to comply with the conditions they impose when 
we are seeking service at their hands. Therefore, since 
Moa-way prefers to confide his tidings, whatever they may 

23 * 


210 


MARK LOGAK, THE BOURGEOIS. 


be, to me alone, rather than to the whole company of clerks 
and engages, with young — ’’ she checked herself — “ I hope 
soon to be in possession of the most encouraging news, 
and I shall lose no time in imparting it to Mr. Logan for 
his guidance. All you have to do is, to say you prefer to 
sleep in the boat, and to retire with as little delay as pos- 
sible — that is, if you care to oblige me.” 

“ which I certainly do,” replied her sister ; “ but I could 
not say I preferred sleeping in the boat, except as a matter 
of prudence, for I should love dearly to lie in our little 
tent on this rising ground, with just a bit of the canvas 
drawn aside, so that I could look out upon the beautiful 
moonlight.” 

“ Monsieur,” said Miss McGregor, as their gallant friend 
just now made his appearance, ‘‘ will you call the people, 
if you please, to come and arrange a sleeping-place in the 
boat for my sister and myself? After those long, warm 
days, and with an early start to-morrow in view, I suppose 
we shall all be ready at once to wish each other a good 
repose.” 

“ Oh, yes — certainenient — and den shut our eyes and 
dream of our wives and leetle shildren, isn’t it? What 
happiness! But, ah 1 I forget-r-you young ladies not 
married— you got no wife to dream about — ^yet.” 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


2n 


CHAPTER XXXYIL 

How Miss McGregor contrived to vStep over thq side of 
the boat and slip away from it without being observed, her 
sister could not comprehend. That she bad done it was 
evident, for when Madeleine awakened from a doze which 
she had not the slightest intention of failing into, and ad- 
dressed her sister in a low tone, she received no answer. 
She put forth her hand to the place where she had left her 
sitting — Monica was not there. She raised the oil-cloth 
curtain and let in a flood of moonlight. Except herself, 
there was no living soul in the cabin. 

“ It cannot take her long to hear all that Moa-way has 
to telV^ she thought. “ She will be back presently, I dare 
say. I wish I knew whether she is thrusting herself into 
any danger. She feels so suflScient for her own protection 
always ! I will keep awake, and, if she is not back soon, I 
shall rouse somebody to look for her. ” 

In conformity with which resolution, she soon fell into a 
quiet slumber from the very effort of straining her atten- 
tion to catch the slightest sound. 

Miss McGregor’s exit from the cabin had been made as 
only those of her own blood know how to steal away; and 
practised ears like hers would alone have detected the light 
dip of a paddle at no great distance, warning her that 
Moa-way was awaiting her. She was aware that the bour- 
geois was seated in the bow of the boat, watching ; but she 
was equally certain that the Ottawa had perceived him 
and would take his measures accordingl}^ — that he would 
be at the stern of the boat, in deep shadow. Enveloping 


2t2 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


herself quietly in a large, dark shawl in the fashion of the 
couverte* of her people, she quitted the cabin, and, with Moa- 
way’s assistance, gained the canoe which was waiting for her. 

The sound of the water lapping against the sides of the 
boat was hardly as great as would have followed the plunge 
of a musk-rat setting forth on its nocturnal rambles. It 
did not attract the attention of the bourgeois, it not being 
from the side towards the water that he would have looked 
for any marauder. 

With his hands rather than with his paddle, Moa-way 
guided his little bark along the shadowy path under the 
sterns of the different boats which lay side by side moored 
to the shore, until projecting shrubs and tufts of alders 
completely sheltered him from view of any inquisitive eye ; 
then, giving full play first to his right arm, then to his left, 
in less than a quarter of an hour he had carried Miss Mc- 
Gregor to a spot where the dense forest which bordered 
the lake opened into a small glade lying bare and bright 
in the moonlight. 

Miss McGregor rose up from the spot where she had 
sat crouched in the end of the canoe. She trembled so 
that she needed Moa- way’s hand to help her to step on 
shore. For a moment she stood to recover herself. She 
looked around, but without asking a question. Moa-way 
waved his hand towards a clump of trees standing de- 
tached from the rest at a little distance. 

She went forward alone. Some one stood in the shadow. 
She could not have mistaken the upright, majestic form of 
the Red Bird, even had she not been greeted with the soft 
accent, “ Espanola !” and felt her hands clasped in his, as 
he drew her towards him. She bowed her head upon his 
arm, and for a time wept unrestrainedly. 


* Indian blanket. 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 2ta 

His strong frame shook with emotion, but he made no 
effort to speak till he could do so with some degree of 
composure ; then he repeated her name. 

“ Espanola — look up. Tell me why you are come. Tell 
me if anything but your own good heart, your own tender 
sympathy for your -unhappy friend, has dictated this visit.^’ 
I come, Wau-nig-sootsh-kah,” said Monica, as soon as 
she could sufficiently repress the feobs which at first ren- 
dered her speech inarticulate, “ I come to s^eak with you 
■ — to save you. I feared you would, in your despair, throw 
away your precious life, or else that our people, intim- 
idated by the threats and awed by the power of the Big 
Knives, might be so weak, so abject, as to sacrifice you 
for the sake of their own safety. I have come to counsel 
with you as to what is best, or rather what is possible, to 
be done in this cruel conjuncture of affairs.” 

“Why should anything be done, Espanola-nee-grah ?* 
To what purpose should we scheme and plan ? You have 
heard of the solemn council at the Butte des Morts. The 
Great Father demands my life. Why should he not have 
it ? Our people have had blood — the blood of the innocent 
and helpless. Why should the Ho-tshung-rahs refuse to 
pay their debt ' 

“But why, oh, why, Wau-nig-Sootsh-kah, should they 
pay it with your precious' life ? Why do they not rather 
seek that of the guilty parties ? You are innocent— 
shed no blood I” 

The Red Bird clasped her hands in his more closely still, 
and pressed them against his heart. 

Again she repeMed, in a tone of agony, “ You shed no 
blood — you are not a murderer I” 

“ I was with them,” he answered, gloomily. “ I led the 
party — I saw it done.” 


A diminutive of endearment. 


214 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

“ Still, if there must be punishment, let it fall on the per- 
petrators of the inhuman act — on Wee-kau, and the other 
one — there was another, — he who shot the discharged sol- 
dier. Let him be given over to justice ; but not you, Wau- 
nig-sootsh-kah — not you. My heart tells me — it told me 
from the first — that you were innocent— that you were in- 
capable of such an act. Will the chiefs of our nation be 
so base as to give you up to the Big Knives 

“ They will not give me up, Espanola.” 

'‘ Will they stand by and let the Government soldiers 
seize you V 

“ No, they will not suffer me to be seized.’^ 

“ Then you are safe I” cried Monica, in joyful accents ; 
“ they will protect and defend you. That is the morning 
light which is to chase away the darkness, as you sent me 
word by Moa-way. Tell me,” she cried, “ is that the mean- 
ing of your words- — that you are to be safe ?” 

Wau-nig-sootsh-kah did not immediately reply, but after 
a little space he said, — 

“ My meaning was, that my people and my country — 
if we have yet a country — shall not suffer through me. No 
dark cloud, presaging bloodshed and rapine, shall hang 
over them for my sake.” 

“ But you will not remain among them ? The chiefs 
may change their brave resolves. Great, temptations may 
corrupt them. You will go and dwell among another peo- 
ple ? That is what you must do — that is best. You shall 
cross the Mississippi, and find an asylum among the Orna- 
has. The brave and good Mahaskah will make you wel- 
come and protect you. In time all will be forgotten. I 
will give the wife of Gagnier the means of living comfort- 
ably. All my share of our annuity money she shall have, 
year by year, for the support of herself and her child. 1 
will go and see her as soon as I get back to the Prairie. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 2t5 

I will tell her how grieved' you are for what has happened 
— that she must forgive you for not having been prompt 
enough to prevent it. It was said that she charged you 
with her husband’s death ; but she will acknowledge her 
mistake; she will remember that the gun she snatched 
from Wee-kau was the one that had taken her husband’s 
life — that she tried to fire it off, but could not, because it 
had been already discharged. That shows that it was 
Wee-kau who did the deed. I shall take care, Wau-nig- 
sootsh-kah, that she does not curse you, but forgives you. 
When you have been a few years among the Qmahas or 
Otoes, you can return, and all will be peace and comfort 
again.” 

Monica pleaded with earnest rapidity ; she did not stop 
for an objection. 

“Come to my heart, and be to me what only you can 
be, for the little time that remains,” said the Red Bird, in 
accents of deep emotion, as, loosing one hand from her 
clasp, he threw his arm around her. 

“Oh, no, no! alas! no,”' cried Monica, drawing away 
from him. “ That is not permitted — it cannot be. In the 
happy days so long past, I dreamed that your bosom might 
be my home ; but, ah ! that dream was chased away by 
my father’s decree — by my mother’s counsel. It can return 
no more. You have chosen another* — to her you belong. 
You are consecrated ; set apart from me except as a friend 
— a brother.” 

“ If your heart had been like mine; you would not have 
listened to father or mother,” said the Red Bird, reproach- 
fully.' “ What right had they to condemn us to a life of 
misery ?” 

“ But you have not been miserable, Wau-nig-sootsh-kab. 
You took a wife to make you happy in my stead.” 

“And why did I take a wife? Because your mother 


216 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


came herself to tell me that you would never know peace 
of mind till you heard that I was consoled. I had thought 
to live single in my lodge, the laughing-stock of all my 
tribe, who would have said, ‘See Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, the 
old bachelor! He has no woman to make his moccasins, 
or to bring his meat home from the chase, or to cook bis 
supper when he comes from his journey tired and hungry 1’ 
But when I knew it was to purchase peace of mind for 
you, I took Way-noo-nah,* the daughter of Tshah-nee- 
kah,f and went to live with her in her father’s lodge..” 

“ And you were happy with her, Wau-nig-sootsh-kah ?” 
said Monica, with a sob. “It was better it should be so.” 

“ Does Espanola ask me if I was happy ? Is the deer 
happy that carries ever the barbed arrow of the hunter in 
its side? No; I was not happy. Way-noo-nah was not 
happy. She had no children — she was devoured by dis- 
content. She upbraided me that I did not love her- — that 
my heart was another’s ; she complained of the hardships 
of her lot. Then I brought another wife to wait on her, 
that she might live at ease. I gave her all the silver that 
I got at the payment, all the skins and furs that I brought 
home from the chase ; but I could not buy happiness for 
her. She reproached me with tears, and said, ‘You love 
the Big Knives better than you love your own people. My 
brother was kiljed by them on the Upper Mississippi, and 
no scalps have been taken to wave over his grave 1 If j^ou 
do not really hate me, go with — with those who belong to 
me, and tahe some 

“ Ah 1” said Miss McGregor> eagerly, “ then it was your 
wife’s father or brother who shot Gagnier ! He was the 
third Indian!” 


* The Spring. The Autumn. 

X Take the lives of our enemies. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 277 

“ The wife of Gagnier says it was my gun that she heard 
click— let it be so*” 

“No, no, Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, we will not let it be so. 
You must not bear the charge of murder unjustly. Let 
him who did the deed answer for it.” 

“Whoever fired the shot did it to avenge his own slaugh- 
tered friends. Did the Government ever punish those who 
committed the outrages up near St. Peter’s? If not, why 
should they ask the privilege of punishing us ?” 

“Alas I Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, the question is not what 
the Government ought to do, but what it has the power 
to do. It can visit on you the penalty of this deed, and it 
will do so, if you allow yourself to remain within its reach. 
Do not, do not, I entreat you, run any risk by delay. Ply 
at once to the Omaha, or even to the Yankton country. By 
_ the morning’s dawn you can be far, far away. Let us part 
now, and at some future time — years hence, perhaps ” 

Miss McGregor could not proceed. 

“ What then, Espanola ?” asked the Red Bird, in an 
agitated tone. 

“ All will be forgotten, and you may come back again to 
your friends and to the graves of your fathers.” 

“ And is that all ? Is that,” he said, bitterly, “ the hope 
Espanola would hold out to me as the reward for slinking 
away like a wolf, who has committed a trespass ?” 

“Oh, Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, what can I say? How can 
I move you to save yourself from death, or from a captivity 
which to you would be a thousandfold worse than death ? 
I know full well that you could march up to their rifles 
baring your breast and bidding them to fire. But to be 
fettered, chained, to be thrust into a dungeon, to lie in 
darkness nnd solitude for long months before you are 
granted the grace of even defending yourself ” 

A shudder passed over the frame of the young chief. 

24 


2Y8 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Irons ? Chains ? They would never treat a man, their 
equal, in that manner I It is only the mean, the cowardly, 
the liars, that need fetters.” 

‘‘They would! they would, Koa-rah-nee-grah Do 
not trust them. Fly, fly, while you have yet time. The 
eagle may make his escape from the hunter, rather than 
be tied to a stake, an object for each child to throw a 
stick at.” 

The Red Bird seemed to hesitate. His proud bear- 
ing softened by degrees; he drooped his head nearer to 
Monica, and whispered, in accents of passionate tender- 
ness, — 

Espanola’s heart is mine. Will she fly with me ? Can 
she ask me to walk desolate and alone in a far-distant land, 
thinking of her, longing for her, dying for her ? Better to 
yield life at once by the hand of the May-ee-hat-tee-rah,f 
if she says no to my prayer.” 

“ Oh, Wau-nig-sootsh-kah', do you forget the precepts 
of the religion in which I have been reared? I have ere 
now explained to you the stern decrees which forbid our 
union. That way we must not, dare not look. Think of 
your wife !” 

“ I have no wife, Espafiola-nee-grah. Way-noo-nah has 
left me — has returned to the lodge of her father. I have 
given her all my earthly possessions save my chiefs robe 
of ceremony. Shall I, arrayed in that, clasp my beloved 
in my arms, and then accept exile and life with her ? Say 
it shall be so, darling. What would not Wau-nig-sootsh- 
kah give up if Espanola pleaded to him with the voice of 
loving entreaty ?” 

Again he attempted to draw her to his heart, but again 
she released herself; yet she still held his hand, and, press- 


* Dear friend. 


t Big Knives, or Americans. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


279 


ing it again and again to her lips, said, in broken 
accents, — 

“ Koa-rah, Koa-rah-nee-grah, listen to Espanola — let her 
plead, since Wau-nig-spotsh-kah boasts that he would give 
up all things for her sake. For my sake, then, tempt me no 

more to leave my Church— my God ” The Red Bird 

interrupted her. 

“ Your God ? Do we not worship the same Great Spirit, 
Espanola — the Maker of all things — the preserver of all 
men ? Do we not both look forward to the happiness he 
has provided for us beyond the grave, when this troublous 
life shall be no more ?’’ 

“Ah, Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, of what avail to go over 
again the- grounds we have argued with one another so 
often ? You cannot accept my faith, and I must not peril 
my soul by casting in my lot with ope who rejects it. Do 
you think I feel nothing when I tell you this?” she said, 
in a voice of anguish. “ Look into your own heart — it is 
the mirror of mine. In proof of it, let me swear to you 
that, though I must not be yours, I will never be another’s. 
Whenever you think of Espanola, say .to yourself that she 
is loving you, praying for you, waiting for the blessed 
hereafter with you. Will you be content with that, Wau- 
nig-sootsh-kah, and ask no more?” 

“I will be a man,” said the Red Bird, drawing himself 
up and raising his head so that the moonbeams fell on his 
noble countenance. “ Espanola was the sunshine of my 
early days; clouds gathered, and my path has long been 
gloomy and overcast. What matter if the thick darkness 
comes at last and shuts out all ? Wau-nig-sootsh-kah can 
lay him down to that sleep in which all deluding dreams 
are forgotten.” : 

Miss McGregor, who had continued to weep bitterly, 
spoke in alarm : — 


280 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

“But Wau-iiig-sootsh-kah will live for Espafiola’s sake, 
as she will live to remember him. He will go to Mahas- 
kah, as he has promised.” 

“Whatever Wau-nig-sootsh-kah promises he will per- 
form,” said the chief, firmly. “ Espanola must be com- 
forted. She must' make no rash vows. Who can tell if 
that which they resolve at night will seem the path of 
wisdom when pondered in the light of morning? If we 
must indeed part now,” observing that she was gathering 
her shawl about her, “ let us part as loving friends. In 
the beautiful lands beyond the great western flood the 
friends who are now separated will one day discourse of 
all that is past, without reproaches and without tears.” 

He pressed her hands fervently between his own, gath- 
ered them for a moment to his breast, and then turned and 
disappeared from her view, almost before she could utter 
an exclamation. 


CHAPTER XXXYIII. 

Madeleine’s slumber was of that light, dozing kind 
which we take when we have something on our minds 
that forbids settled sleep. Aftet a time she roused up 
fully, vexed at herself for her transient drowsiness. She 
looked abroad. Thb moon was high up in the sky. It had 
travelled far past the end of the boat, against which its 
rays were falling when she last took an observation. 

“Where can Monica be?” she said to herself. “What 
can Moa-way have to say to her all this time ? It surely 
would not be necessary for her to go very far from the 
boats to get out of ear-shot I I suppose it is absurd in me 
to feel alarmed about her,” she said, by way of arguing 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 281 

herself out of a fit of trembling j “I dare say it is not so 
very late.’^ 

She felt for her watch, and looked at it in the bright 
moonlight. “ Half-past one I Good Heavens, what can it 
mean? Something must have happened to her I Moa- 
way — can he have proved faithless ? Oh, dear I oh, dear I 
why would she trust him ? But, then, if anything had 
attacked her would she not have shrieked out? She could 
not have gone to a great distance to listen to what Moa- 
way had to tell her. I will wait a quarter of an hour; 
then, if she does not come, I will give the alarm and have 
her hunted for.” 

She took oif her cap, smoothed her hair, and, throwing a 
shawl over the -chintz dressing-gown in which she had 
wrapped herself before lying down, she sat quietly upon 
the side of the commodious divan which had been con- 
structed of trunks and mattresses, and listened for the 
sound of her sister’s returning footsteps. In her anxiety 
she drew forth her watch again and again, to see whether 
her quarter of an hour had expire’d. I don’t know why 
I should wait,” she said; “only Monica, if she is, after all, 
close at hand, will be so annoyed if I make a fuss I” 

When the fifteen minutes had passed, she could restrain 
her impatience no longer. She parted the curtains which 
screened the little cabin from the bow of the boaty in doubt 
what step to take. She saw no tent pitched on the shore, 
and she had no idea in which boat the bourgeois had taken 
up his quarters. An instinctive feelings however, whis- 
pered that he \YOuld not be far distant from the one in 
which she was reposing. 

“ He will think it so strange and childish in me to wake 
him out of his sleep,” she said ; “and Monica — will she 
regard it as a breach of confidence, seeing that she im- 
parted to me her intention ?” 

24 * 


282 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


A low sound, which her fears magnified into the growl 
of a catamount at the very least, put to flight all her 
scruples. Hardly knowing what she did, she put forth 
her head, and called, — 

“Mark I Mark! come to me.’^ 

Logan started up. He was seated on the mess-basket, 
not two feet from her. 

“ What is it V' he cried, springing to her side. “ What 
has happened ? What will you have 

“Oh, I didn’t know you were there — I am so glad 1” she 
said, as he soothingly repeated his inquiries. “ I am so 
frightened about Monica. It is nearly two o’clock, and she 
has not come back yet.” 

“ Not come back! Why, where has she gone? What, 
ill the name of all that is wonderful, can have taken her 
abroad at this hour and in the present state of things? 
She is certainly out of her senses!” 

“ That is a question that she alone can answer — why she 
went. But she is not crazy. She told me she was going 
to hold a quiet conference with Moa-way, the Ottawa.” 

“ And you- believed her ?” said Logan, with an arch look. 
“ No, dear, it was not to confer with Moa-way, depend upon 
it. Your sister has some deeper plan than that.” 

“ Oh, then she may be in the greatest danger. Dear 
Mark, rouse up the men — let them scour the woods — and 
do you go too — no — you had better stay — somebody must 
stay, you know, to see after the cargoes 

“ Your sister is perfectly safe, my dearest, depend upon 
that. I spoke unguai-dedly. She, of Course, knows her 
own people and feels that she can trust them.” 

“ But, Mark, there may be wild beasts. I heard such 
an awful sound just now— there it is again! Come quite 
close here and listen !” 

“ Yes,” said Logan, laughing. “Don’t think me unfeel- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 283 

ing, darling ; I had my quarters next to our good friend 
M. Tremblay last night, and I recognize his bassoon. It 
will not devour us.’^ 

“ Oh, how silly I am I But still, about Monica. Suppose 
you take some of the men and go just to the edge of the 
woods — ruot out of sight, you know. You can call to her; 
and if she answers you, then all is right.” 

“ Your sister might not relish such a procedure on our 
part. She is somewhat tenacious, I observe. Sit down, 
now, and let us discuss the subject” — which they did, 
Logan bringing so much good sense to bear upon the 
question that Madeleine’s fears vanished, and she sat very 
patiently by the open curtain, with Mark on the other side, 
yet sufSciently near to act as protector should even a 
mosquito make a demonstration towards her fair face. 

“ There was another thing I wanted to speak to you 
about, Mark,” said ivfiideleine. “I have always been 
troubled with a fear that papa did not get those letters we 
sent him the day we, went to the Kakalin. After Moa-way 
returned that time, when I was so impatient for papa’s 
answer and so anxious to hear all about him, Monica told 
me frankly that he did not go to the. Prairie, — which I 
thought very strange, for I had seen her take what looked 
like quite a large sum of silver from a canvas bag and give 
him, when he was about to set off. Monica said he only 
went as far as the Portage, and from there sent the letter 
to the Prairie by another Indian. Now, if after being paid 
so liberally on that occasion he failed to fulfil his engage- 
ment, it seems strange to me that Monica should trust him 
again. I would not.” 

“ Hadn’t you better let down the curtain and come to 
rest again, Madeleine ?” said the calm, gentle voice of her 
sister, close behind her. Madeleine started, with an excla- 
mAtion that was almost a scream. 


284 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

Oh, Monica, dear, have you come at last ? I was 
getting so frightened about you ; but Mar — Mr! Logan said 
there was no need, that you were safe ” 

“And you see he was right. Good-night, Mr. Logan. 
Thank you very much for keeping watch over my sister, — 
rallying her courage, I should rather say, since there was 
nothing to keep watch against.” 

The bourgeois had by this time unlocked the cover of 
the mess-basket atid brought from within it a bottle of 
wine. His quick ear had detected that Miss McGregor’s 
voice was sad, and also that she was shivering, whether 
with cold or with emotion he could not tell. 

“ Will it not be most prudent, madame, for you to take a 
little wine after your exposure to the night-air ?” 

“ Thank you, yes,” she said, almost seizing it; I will, 
indeed — it is best.” And as she drank it her teeth chat- 
tered against the glass. Logan had filled another glass 
and, without a word, handed it to Madeleine She tasted 
it as if it were a matter of obedience, but quickly handed 
it back to him, and turned to her sister. 

“ Oh, Monica, you have heard some bad news— you are 
trembling. Have you heard from home ? Has anything 
happened ?” 

“No, no, I have heard nothing; all is going on well. 
Do not distress yourself, my dear ; Moa-way brought only 
good news.” 

“ For all that, something has happened to grieve her ; 
she would never speak to me so tenderly if her own heart 
were not suffering,” said Madeleine to herself. “Some- 
thing that has befallen or is about to befall her people. Her 
heart is so bound up in them !” 

And the bourgeois made very much the same reflections 
as he drew down the canvas curtain and carefully fastened 
it at the sides to exclude the western breeze. 


MARK LOO AM, TIfE BOURGEOIS. 


285 


His suspicions were not dissipated when Miss McGregor^ 
in bidding him good-night, added, — 

“Upon the whole, Mr. Logan, I do not think there is 
any particular occasion for rousing the men So very early 
to-morrow. You all require rest, and so, perhaps, do 
Madeleine and 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Whether Miss McGregor slept after the excitement and 
emotion of the last few h^rs, she alone could tell. Ma- 
deleine, her mind relieved from anxiety, soon sank into a 
slumber, from which she was, after a time, awakened by 
sounds which had, for a little time previous, mingled with 
her dreams. 

She had fancied herself witnessing a scalp-dance on the 
lawn before her father’s house, and that from one of the 
horrid trophies which was brandished under the very win- 
dow where she sat, she saw streaming the long, soft, dark 
hair of a woman, tied with the cherry-colored ribbon that 
Monica had been accustomed to wear around her neck. 
She thought the tall, handsome savage who bore it, as ho 
approached her, gave a whoop — the fierce, thrilling scalp- 
whoop, which she had occasionally, though rarely, heard 
in her childhood. 

She started up in terror. Her dream was partially real- 
ity — there were whoops and yells in the air; there were 
voices calling from a distance, and answered by others 
close at hand. 

Monica was not in the little cabin. Madeleine threw 
up the side curtain and looked out, forgetful of nightcap 
or any other disarray. The little lake was covered with 


286 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


boats — a perfect fleet, in full career towards the place where 
their own lay moored. The rays of the early sun glittered 
on streamers and bayonets as well as on the waves which 
rippled in the light morning breeze. The barge of the 
commanding officer, with the United States flag flying at 
its prow, wss followed by a long array of MacJ^inacand Dur- 
ham boats, filled, some with regulars, others with militia 
or Waubanakees, and by canoes bearing the Menomonee 
allies, now paddling in the rear, now darting here and there, 
at the caprice of their navigators.. 

The arrangement of her toilet was the work of a very 
few minutes, and Madeleine was outside, standing on one 
of the thwarts, beside her sister and the bourgeois, all 
awaiting the first salutation of Colonel Bentley. 

Miss McGregor was in doubt whether the greeting of 
this dignitary would be courteous or reproachful ; she sus- 
pected, the latter. 

The colonel was standing erect in his barge as it drew 
near. He lifted his shako to the ladies and bowed, but 
did not smile. His words were addressed to the bour- 
geois : — 

“ So, young gentleman, you thought proper to hurry on, 
and throw your cargo and passengers into the very teeth 
of danger— danger not to yourselves alone, but perilling 
the whole country from Fort Howard to Fort Crawford!” 

“ Allow me to speak in reply, if you please,” said Miss 
McGregor, with a gentle inclination to the commanding 
officer. “In this matter Mr. Logan has acted entirely 
under my directions. I took upon myself the office of 
hourgeoise for the time being. I cannot think we were 
running any special risk when bur military protectors were 
but a few hours behind us — so few that our friend Moa- 
way here could have paddled in his canoe to bring them 
to our rescue at the very first hint of danger.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


287 


She spoke so sweetly, and her manner was so gracious, 
that the colonel was in a measure disarmed ; his voice took 
a different inflection : — 

“ Still, madam, I must think you have run a very great 
risk. It is not the custom of these people to give warning, 
and put their proposed victims on their guard. In case 
of a sudden surprise you would have found it very difficult 
to notify us, even with your red friend’s help.” 

“ We are not such poor soldiers as you imagine, sir,” she 
replied, with a smile that more than one of her listeners 
thought very bewitching; “we did not leave ourselves 
open to a sudden surprise.^ Our watch has been most vigi- 
lantly kept, I assure you, through this whole night, in 
which there has been for the first time any real exposure 
or danger.” 

“ Ah ! very well — very well. A watch kept ! That was 
extremely well done. I see you understand the first mili- 
tary principle — prudence ; it is even before prowess. But 
though we may vote you a wreath of laurel, or a medal, 
which is more fashionable, for having brought your little 
command safely through a most hazardous position, yet, as 
matters are, our party will have now, I think, to take the 
lead, and allow you to follow on at your leisure. Good- 
morning, madam” — the colonel was, by this time, all smiles 
and courtesy — “ Au revoir. By-the-by, we have got a 
couple of ladies in our train, who, I dare say, will be very 
happy to lag behind and share your camping-ground out 
of the reach of our excellent allies there, who naturally are 
not very much to their taste.” 

“Any one whom you recommend to our care, sir, shall 
be very welcome to come with us,‘” said Miss McGregor, 
in her most obliging tone. Her heart was beating with 
joy at having reinstated herself in the good graces of the 
commanding officer, for she said to herself, “He may be in- 


288 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


duced to deal leniently with the chiefs when he finds that 
the Red Bird, by his flight across the Mississippi, has put 
it out of their power to comply with the requisitions of the 
Government. They can show that it was their design to 
have delivered him up, but that he has put it out of their 
power to do so. And Colonel Bentley, if he is in a good 
humor, will promise them to have their failure overlooked 
by their Father at Washington.” 

The hope of being instrumental in such a consummation 
banished, in some measure, the sadness which had clouded 
the brow of Miss McGregor, and she was able to receive 
and return the salutations of the officers of her acquaintance 
as boat after boat pressed forward. 

“ Ah I Miss McGregor- — delighted to see you looking so 
charmingly this bright summer morning,” cried Captain 
Lytle. Summer ? No — by Jove I I forgot. September 
has come. ‘ How lightly falls the foot of Time !’ ” — with 
a slightly sentimental air ; then, with sudden recollection, 
“ Not that time has trodden on flowers for the last three 
weeks ” 

“ Unless it were water-lilies and folles-avoines,* I sup- 
pose,” said Miss McGregor, in a careless tone, for she was 
not well pleased at the present assumption of gallantry on 
the part of the capricious captain. The latter was so little 
acquainted with characters like Miss McGregor’s that he 
fancied she spoke in pique, and that perseverance in his 
assiduities would be all that was wanting to insure smiles 
ill return. 

“Water-lilies — yes, as you say, our path was strewed 
with them. Cold and disconsolate, are they not? Em- 
blems of absence and^-and-^disappointment — and but 

now we shall look for a pathway of roses — fragrant as the 


* The wild rice with which Fox River and the small lakes abound. 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


289 


memory of the past.” The captain spoke rather low, and 
looked around to make sure that he was unobserved, then 
heaved a sigh. 

We have no monthly roses on our Western prairies,” 
said the young lady. “ Those that blossomed in their sea- 
son have all died out long ago. It’s a fashion they have, 
whether savage or civilized ! Ah I Mr. Hamilton — so you 
have come to show yourself a hero ! Had you a pleasant 
voyage ?” asked Miss McGregor, with an air of kind inter- 
est, and quite cutting short her dialogue with Captain 
Lytle, who scowled and bit his lip to conceal his mor- 
tification. ^ 

The quartermaster gave a stiff bow, but a gratified smile, 
as he answered the young lady’s inquiry, while Mr. Staf- 
ford profited by her amiable greeting to venture a few 
words of courteous salutation to her sister. The com- 
manding officer was soon ready with the words “ Give way, 
my men I” and his boat shot ahead. Not so that of the 
younger officers. It was so pleasant to meet the young 
ladies and enjoy a chat, after* days of tedious, uneventful 
travelling I 

“ Is Mr. Smithett of your party ?” asked Madeleine. 

“ No, ma’am. We left him to guard the Fort,” said 
Hamilton, dryly. “ The adjutant did detail him, at first, 
to take charge of our Indian allies ; but he came to beg off, 
pleading that as he and the Mee-homdnys could not under- 
stand each other, he should be of no manner of use, and 
the colonel, probably being of the same opinion, appointed 
him to another field of service — guarding the ladies in our 
absence. ” 

And who are the ladies with you, of whom Colonel 
Bentley spoke ?” . 

Old acquaintances, if not old friends,” said Mr. Staf- 
25 . . 


290 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


ford — “ our former travelling-companions, Mrs. Smart and 
Mrs. Hale.’^ 

‘‘ Indeed I What can they be doing on such an expe- 
dition as this said Madeleine. “ Does Mrs. Smart think 
she has a faculty, as she calls it, for bringing the refractory 
Winnebagoes to terms ? .And, of all things, has she brought 
Mrs. Hale as her coadjutor 

“ I think,’’ said the young officer, “ Mrs. Smart’s mission 
has no motiv-e so exalted as her country’s good or the 
peace of her savage brethren. Her husband, who is sutler 
at Fort Crawford, has quite a large amount of supplies 
that he is transporting to the post, and he has asked leave 
to attach himself to our party, with the understanding that 
he is to sutth for us, as. his wife calls it, whenever we may 
find it convenient to call upon him. No alarms of Indian 
foes could keep madam from accompanying him, for she 
has got all the pluck of the. concern, and I believe thinks 
that, on occasion, her tongue would effect more than salvos 
of artillery. She is a wonderful woman, Mrs. Smart, par- 
ticularly in the item of olfactories. ” 

The gentlemen who had heard the story of the surveying- 
instruments laughed. 

“But I don’t understand her object in bringing that 
pale, distressed-looking Mrs. Hale with her,” said Made- 
leine. 

“ Smart tells me he has taken the husband for clerk, and 
they are emigrating, as they call it, to the Prairie.” 

“Mrs. Smart is a very kind-hearted woman,” said Made- 
leine. “I saw a great deal of her goodness on board the 
steamer when we travelled together.” 

“ Her goodness to Smart has been unbounded. Captain 
Lovel tells me,” said the quartermaster, gravely. 

“Why, he is her husband,” said Madeleine. “Are not 
■women, as a general rule, kind to their husbands?” 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


291 


“ We bachelors thifik that an open question,” said Hamil- 
ton. “ But Mr. Smart was not always his wife’s husband. 
(When he was^a lieutenant in the army, during the last 
war, he was a single man. He was in , Scott’s command, 
near Niagara ; and lying round, in the cedar swamps, and 
months' of .hardr.;ser, vice of a similar kindj besides being 
wounded at Lundy, knc^ked him up conipletely, so that 
at the, reduction of the army, being : found useless,- he was 
-thrown aside. He was-Tery poor,.and an- invalid, without 
the means of learning a copper. He boarded with a little 
widownir Huffalo,'whofnursed: him and /topk Care of him, 
and, when; he Lad nothing to settle his bill with, kindly 
took himselL for pay. If that is not being gooddo him, I 
do not know what is.'”.t : . , — : 

“ He: seems active and en^rgetic>enough nOw,” said Miss 
McGregor, joining for the first time in the C.onversation; 

‘.Of eoopse he is. What man wouldn’t feel encouraged 
with such a helper.? To use her own phrase, ‘she made 
General Scott’: get a pension, for him ; and, lately, she . has 
somehow obtained the sanae induence with thei officers of 
the Fort to get him the post of sutler;- It really is asiyou 
say, madam — she is kind-hearted, and does lots of good to 
everybody.” 

“ How I wish there were more such people in the world !” 
said Madeleine. “ I am glad she is coming with us. I 
hope we shall make tierasjqomfortable ^sishe makes others.” 
Then turning towards Captain. Lovel’s boat, as it drew 
near,' she cried, “.Oh, captain, if you had only . brought 
Grace with you! Wouldn’t she have- enjoyed this trip?” 

“I cannot pronoupoe,, my dear young lady, till we get 
to the end of it. I haven’t begun to see the beauties of 
it myself, yet. I dare say Miss Latimer would have been 
as ready as any of her sex to go out on the war-path, but, 
upon the whole, I am not sorry she has limited her heroic 


292 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


exploits to conquests nearer home. Excuse me, Ewing — 
did you remark anything?’’ 

Only,” said Mr. Ewing, looking a little conscious, “to 
ask you to give me a moment’s opportunity of paying my 
respects to the young ladies.” 

“ Oh, certainly ; say all you’ve got to say, and then let’s 
be off. Our colonel is in a devil of a hurry — I’m sure I 
can’t imagine why. I don’t suppose all the break-jaw old 
fellows at the Portage — all the Hee-nook-ah-rah-took-shun- 
neek-hee-noos — are going to vanish into thin air before we 
get up to them. As for their floating down the Wisconsin, 
I take it Atkinson’s command has by this time dammed 
that stream up for them pretty effectually. We shall find 
them all there at the Portage, I’ll bet — the handsome Mr. 
Red Bird and all the other knights of the tomahawk — 
waiting for us.” 

“ God forbid I” said Miss McGregor to herself, with 
almost a groan. “ Oh ! if I could but know certainly that 
he was away on the road to Mahaskah and his braves, I 
could bear with patience, with gladness, whatever trial 
might be laid upon me I” 


CHAPTER XL. 

The boats pulled away, one after another, in obedience 
to the word of command, the Menomonees whooping, 
yelling, and Vying With each other in the fleetness with 
which they would cause their canoeis to shoot forward 
among and around the larger craft, as if in derision of 
their sluggishness. 

The boat in which were Mrs. Smart with Mrs. Hale and 


MARK LOaAK, THE BOUROEOIS. 


293 


her children had dropped behind. ' Earnest were the hand- 
shakings and voluble were the outpourings of gratitude 
with which the first-mentioned lady acknowledged the 
favor of being allowed to “ cast in her lot,” as she ex- 
pressed it, with the two sisters and their suite. 

“ You see, we have got everything as nice as need be, 
in our own boat,— all sorts of little delicacies and kick- 
shaws, such as a sutler is sure to provide his wife with ; 
and we needn’t make you a morsel of trouble. But the 
fact is, Smart likes to keep close to the commanding officer 
and the rest of them, as it’s right he should. Talk about 
your quartermasters, ’and about your soldiers being con- 
tented with soldier’s fare I I tell you what, let an officer 
be as good a soldier as he may, he likes to have the sutler 
round,” with a wink, and puckering her mouth into a laugh. 
“ So my husband and I concluded that the best plan would 
be for him to have an extra boat, well packed with all such 
things as the officers would be likely to want, and for him 
and Hale to keep pretty much along with them all the time. 
As he paid the sutler at Fort Howard a handsome sum 
for the privilege of suttling for the command on this trip, 
I didn’t want him to lose money, so I undertook to take 
care of myself and not be a morsel of hindrance to him. 
That’s the way of it ; and Colonel Bentley, who is an old 
army comrade of my husband’s, he engaged to speak to 
you and your sister about it. I hope you don’t think I’ve 
been a pushing myself too forward in asking the privilege.” 

Miss McGregor, with more cordiality of manner than 
she was in the habit of manifesting, made Mrs. Smart wel- 
come, which so delighted the good lady that she forthwith 
plunged still deeper into explanations of Smart’s position 
and affairs, winding up with some sage aphorisms in the'" 
following form : — 

“ So, I said, what’s the use of hanging fire ? Go ahead 
25 * 


294 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


and take the business, if to bring .you in anything. 
Don’t be squeamish. Remember, a man ie respeeted for 
what he holds on to/ not for what he lets slip through his 
fingers. - As for the oflScers, it’s not likely anybody’s going 
to make a fortuneout of them. Let them alone forgetting 
the worth of their penny ; but) then, a littleds better than 

nothing at alL!’ ‘ - 

Mrs. Hale stood in admiring silence while Mrs. Smart 
thus wisely expounded. She uttered not a word; but cor- 
roborated what her friend advanced with a succession of 
nods, or applauded a sally that pleased her by an occa- 
sional laugh behind her pocket-handkerchiefi 

“Have you forgotten; ladies,; that you have not break- 
fasted ?’! said Logan; approaching. “ Michaud is in de- 
spair lest his venison ateaks should be spoiled by delay.” 

“ Venison I where did Michaud light upon such a deli- 
cacy asked Madeleine. ' 

He tells me that Moa-tvay brought in a couple of fine 
quarters about daybreak, saying that he found them in the 
woods.” 

“ That is strange. I have heard no guns. Have you 
heard any; Monica ?” ’ 

Her isister replied in the negative; yet she knew all the 
same whoae^./i^ai? had brought: down thei game, and Whose 
thoughtful care had sent her as large a share' as Moaway 
could carry dn his shoulders. 

“ You will come and breakfast with us ?” said Made- 
leine to Mrs.' Smart and Mrs. Hale. 

“ Oh, bless your dear little heart,” said the former, “ I 
am as much obliged to you as can be, but We had our pork 
and potatoes at about three o’clock this morning. Not but 
what we might have had something a little nicer, only plaiif 
food is best for the health, and I couldn’t afford to have 
two sick children on my hands while we are travelling. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


295 


And let me tell you,” lowering her voice, and giving one 
of her funny little winks, “if you know when you’re well 
off, you’ll let us just keep our distance. Them children 
wouldn’t be a side-dish that you’d have much need to 
covet, if you are anyways particular about behavior.” 

But, though she declined to join their mess, Mrs. Smart 
did not feel constrained to refuse the fine venison ham 
which she found in the hands of her cook. She only in- 
sisted on marking her sense of the value of the present by 
a gift in return of a couple of tumblers of currant jelly and 
ajar of pickled oysters, “to give,” as she said, “a kind of 
a relish to the other good things.” 

The eountry through which their route now carried the 
travellers was, for the most part, flat and dreary. 

LaU des Boeufs, a small sheet of water, had, it is true, 
pretty picturesque banks, with headlands covered with 
trees jutting out into the clear waters, and with occasional 
glades or oak-openings, like beautiful park scenery, in 
which the deer grazed tranquilly until, disturbed by 
whoops from the approaching boats, they would bound 
away into the forest. 

Then came an extended level, through which, for miles 
upon miles, the river trailed its lazy way, by a narrow, ser- 
pentine course, through a vast prairie covered with coarse 
grass already beginning to look sere and brown from the 
summer’s heat. At times the course of the stream was so 
impeded by the rushes, which grow tall and tough along 
its bed, that it was only by poling that the boats could be 
forced along. At rare intervals the current would expand 
into- something like a pond, with surface quite concealed 
from view by the masses of lilies, whose white or ‘yellow 
globes were eagerly grasped and drawn on board, spite of 
their tenacious hold to their beds by stems fen or twelve 
feet in length. 


296 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


There could be, of course, but little singing while the 
voyageurs were making their way in such a tiresome 
manner. Even old Michaud’s occasional lilting up with 
something humorous, as, — 

“ Quand j’gtais chez mon pS^re, 

Peti-te Jean-ne-ton, 

J’allais a la fontain-e 
Pour pecher du poisson,” 

brought out a very feeble chorus of, — 

“ La violet-te dan dan-e. 

La violet-te dan dan/’ 

With SO many causes of perplexing meditation, it was 
no wonder that the two days spent in this part of their 
journey seemed inexpressibly long and tedious to the 
sisters. 

“ How little like Sunday this day has appeared I” said 
Madeleine, on the afternoon of the second day. “ I have 
tried to go through the service in the Prayer-Book, but it is 
so difficult to preserve a devotional feeling when everything 
around one is going on just as usual, like any other day of 
the week.” 

“ Yes,” assented the bourgeois, to whom, as he sat out- 
side of the little cabin, the remark was addressed. “ I was 
in hopes of being able to give the men a rest to-day, — 
bodily rest is all they would have appreciated, I suppose, — 
but the colonel’s orders are imperative ; we may not lag 
behind ; we must keep close in his wake. It is to be hoped 
that a breach of the Fourth Commandment will be par- 
doned, since it is a matter of inexorable necessity. How 
beautiful some of these hymns ^re I” 

He read first one and then another, from Madeleine’s 
American Prayer-Book, in a low tone, Miss McGregor in 
the mean time, apparently, taking no notice as she lay 


MARK LOOAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


29T 


apart upon the divan, motionless, with her head enveloped 
in her shawl, after the manner of her people when they are 
mther grieved or discontented. 

As, however, the young man in going over the index 
named one hymn, “Vital spark of heavenly flame I” she 
raised her head and spoke : — 

“That is indeed a beautiful one. Madeleine, cann6t 
you sing it? The metre is somewhat irregular and un- 
common, but I think you have an air to it which you can 
accompany with your guitar. Mr. Logan, don’t you ad- 
mire that hymn ?” 

“ As a hymn, I can hardly say that I do,” replied the 
bourgeois. “ Is it, in fact, a hymn ?” 

“A hymn? Certainty. What else?” 

“A tender apostrophe, it seems to me, to one’s own 
parting spirit, with an expostulation to the physical frame 
which is supposed to be detaining it. It is also a poetical 
and, if you will, a touching description of circumstances 
which may, possibly, attend the passage of the soul to a 
new state of existence; though, as nothing of the kind has 
ever been revealed to mortals, the author is wholly indebted 
to his imagination for the sort of sentimental glory he 
throws around the solemn hour.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Logan, ‘you astonish me I Do you doubt that 
there may be a glory and a happiness in such an hour ?” 

“ God forbid 1 I only express my belief that the ‘bliss 
of dying’ is derived, not from the whisperings of sister 
spirits, but from the consoling presence of One higher than 
the angels, who has promised to be with us in passing 
through the dark valley.” 

“ I think that presence is implied in the concluding 
couplet of the last stanza, ‘0 gravel where is . thy vic- 
tory ? O death I where is thy sting ?’ ” 

“ It certainly would be, if the poet had gone a little fur- 


298 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


ther with the text of the apostle, and completed his strain 
with a paraphrase of the verse, ‘ Thanks be to God, who 
giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus ChristJ As 
the piece now stands, it contains not one word of recogni- 
tion of the Deity, neither adoration, nor supplication, nor 
confession of sin. There is nothing in it that is in the 
slightest degree devotional; for that reason, I could hardly 
call it a hymn.” 

“ You seem very well acquainted with the texts to which 
you allude,” said Miss McGreger, in a slightly scoffing 
tone. 

“ I ought to be,” replied the bourgeois, quietly. “ I have 
heard our burial-service, of which they form a part, often 
enough to have learned them by heart.” 

At this moment Miss McGregor sprang to her feet, 
roused by a cheering shout from old Michaud given at the 
very top of his lungs,— 

“ Whoop-lk, avance’ I avance^ I Yoil^ le Portage !” 

There, indeed, was the desired spot, apparently close at 
hand, yet not to be reached until after many doublings and 
windings — not, indeed, until the patience of Miss Mc- 
Gregor, at least, was wellnigh exhausted. Slowly and 
circuitously the boats wound their way, now approaching 
the little cluster of log cabins and ‘Indian lodges that 
crowned a rising ground, they seemed just about to reach 
them— now turning away and shooting in an opposite 
direction, as if to retrace their course — anon doubling, like 
a bunted animal — at length arriving at the little promon- 
tory which had been selected by the military as their point 
of debarkation. 

The boats of the command lay moored at its foot, and 
were already vacant of their company of officers and sol- 
diers. The men were toiling up the ascent, laden with all 
the appliances for an immediate encampment. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 299 

Two. or three officers were standing upon the bank at the 
little landing-place^ and they. eagerly called to the bourgeois 
and to the. ladies^ as their boat drew near,—- ■ 

“Oh, stop 1 stop! by all means — don’t go any farther. 
Miss McGregor, don’t let them carry you and-your sister 
on to Lapierre’s. Didn’t you observe, as you Jpasse.d, that 
the trading-house is surrounded by a perfect -horde of 
J^eechees You cannot surely think of eamping among 
them V' ■ 

V No, that/would not be pleasant,” said Miss McGregor; 

“ but I rather think Madame Lapierre will find some place 
under her own roof where she can bestow us.”- 

“ Indeed,’^ cried Captain Lovel, “you must not Chink of ' 
such a thing* You know what these little trading-houses 
are— homes for every, dirty or drunken Savage ; and at a 
time like this there will be plenty of such gentry about. 
I’ll engage there’s enough whiskey on the gi*ound already 
to set a pow-wow going that you and your sister will wish 
yourselves. well out of.” • 

“I certainly hope Miss McGregor will be persuaded,” 
said Mr. Ewingdo Madeleine. “I knowsomething-of the 
habits and customs which the Indians have unfortunately 
borrowed from those, who should have taught them, better ; 
and I. am certain you will be jeopardizing your comfort, if 
not your safety, .by taking up your quarters eVen under 
the roof , of the trading- house: If your sister is wise, she 
will. put the Fox River between you add &uch undesirable 
neighbors.-’^ . ■ 

“ Do you think the: Winnebagoes likely to be more dis- 
tasteful neighbors than the ;Waubatiakees 'and .Menomp- 
iiees ?”/ asked Miss McGregor,, with a slight touch of 
sarcasm In , her tonei. ' : . : ; ; • 


Indians — literally, friends. 


300 


MARK LOOANy TEE BOURGEOIS. 


^‘I do, most certainly, since they are entirely without 
the restraints of military supervision and discipline.’^ 

Miss McGregor seemed wavering, when her decision 
was settled by a few words from Colonel Bentley, who ap- 
proached and with great suavity accosted her. 

“ My dear young lady, I am very glad to find that you 
are still here. I have a great favor to ask of you. You 
know that these are ticklish times, and though we have got 
our duty to do, yet I, for one, have no desire to do more 
than my duty ; that is, I do not wish to show myself un- 
necessarily stern or severe. I think it sometimes happens 
that we can avoid extremities, if we can only come to a 
right understanding ; but the thing is how to understand 
these chaps. You see I am coming to the point. I do not 
find that I have a single person in my whole command who 
can speak the Winnebago language.” 

“No, I dare say not,” said Miss McGregor. “It is a 
language almost impossible for a white man to learn.” 

“ Is that so ? A most interesting fact,” said the Com- 
missioner, drawing out his note-book. 

“ In my dilemma, I must appeal to you,” pursued the 
colonel. 

“ Lapierre, who has charge of the trading-house, is allied 
to these people — he speaks the language perfectly. I have 
no doubt he will act as interpreter,” said Miss McGregor. 

“ Oh, no doubt, in a regular talk or council, or upon any 
special occasion. I shall take care to engage his services 
for such. But what I want — what, in fact, is indispen- 
sable — is some one who can be always at hand in case of 
emergency. While I wish to impress upon the Indians 
that the Government is to be respected, I am anxious to 
avoid appearing as an enemy ; and, to that end, I wish to 
talk with all the chiefs as they come in, or as I can find 
occasion. Does not that seem to you the right policy ?” 


MARK LOG Air, THE BOURGEOIS. 


301 


I certainly think your ideas both wise and kind,’’ said 
Miss McGregor. 

“ Then, since I cannot expect that Lapierre will leave 
his business to take up his abode altogether with us while 
we are here ” 

“ No, he could not do that,” said Miss McGregor. “He 
will have to attend very diligently to getting our boats and 
their cargoes over the portage road. Michaud tells me 
that the whole will have to be carried on ox-carts from the 
Fox River to the Wisconsin, — a distance of about two miles, 
— and that two days’ time will hardly suffice for the trans- 
portation of all.” 

“ I could hardly venture to plead with Miss McGregor, 
upon any score save that of duty, to engage in a task that 
may naturally be distasteful to her,” said the colonel, po- 
litely ; “ yet if her own good feelings should prompt her to 
accede to my earnest request, and if she would allow me 
to order a marquee pitched for her and made as comfort- 
able as circumstances will allow, while she takes up her 
quarters close beside us ” 

It was, in truth, a distasteful office for Monica, but she 
was not slow to perceive the possible advantages to be de- 
rived from her undertaking it. She turned for a moment 
towards the bourgeois. He looked a little anxious, and 
Madeleine still more so. 

“ I do not know that there is any urgent reason why we 
should go on to Lapierre’s,” she said. 

“ None in the least,” said Logan. “ I think it desirable, 
on the contrary, that you should spare yourselves such 
surroundings as you would find now at the trading-house.” 

“But it will not be necessary for Colonel Bentley to 
trouble himself about a tent for us. We have our own 
little one, which, if you please, you will have pitched 
somewhere on the verge of the encampment, — in a place 

26 


302 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


where, if ^eQessary, any of the clerks or men, or possibly,’^ 
she said, with a sad smile, “ even some amonj^ my old 
friends, the Ho-tshdng-rahs, may come and see me without 
dread that they are intruding or transgi’essing.’^ 

I shall certainly take care that you and 4hey have full 
liberty, mad^ine,” said the commanding offider, courteously. 

“ Then, Monsieur Tremblay,’^ said the young ladyyi“ we 
will depend upon you to take charge of my sister and my 
self iWhile Mr. Logaii arrangea with Lapierre. about the 
tran^ortation of our boats a.nd their lading. And, Mr. 
Logan,, ii^ay I trouble, you to return to this side by-and*by ? 
There are various little matters that I wish to consult you 
about.’' , ; ' 

So, haying caused the eyes of the bourgeois to brighten 
with: the: certainty that; he was not to be entirely shaken 
off, Mias McGregor accepted the arm of Colonel Bentley,: 
and, leaving Madeleine to the gallant Monsieur Tremblay,, 
togetlior, they ascended the bluff. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

Nothing more admirably suited for an encampment 
could have been found, than the esplanade to which the 
colonel and Miss McGregor ascended. 

It was on the summit of a small spur, around three sides 
of which wound the tortuous eourse of the Pbx River,' 
while the fourth — ^that by which the road , from “the bay” 
approached — was fringed by the native forest. Beyond the 
lowlands, and a little to the right, rose a corresponding' 
bluff, on which was situated the^ trading-establishment of 
the Fur Company. To reach this, one might either ferry 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


303 


across the stream and walk some two or three furlongs, 
then gradually ascend the rising ground, passing along the 
brpw of the hill for a short distance, or else take boat at 
the place where the travellers had this afternoon disem- 
barked, and, threading a long loop of the river, going once 
back and twice forward, at length reach the point in 
question. 

Far away, beyond the portage, to the left, were the cliffs 
of the Wisconsin ; and even a faint line of the Barribault 
Hills might be descried, many miles distant. 

It was an extremely pretty landscape as it lay bright in 
the afternoon sun; perhaps the numerous little matted 
lodges which dotted the low grounds beyond the river, 
clustering most thickly in the immediate vicinity of the 
shabby, irregular buildings which formed the trading-es- 
tablishment, did not diminish the picturesque effect of the 
whole. 

Monica gazed upon the scene with an eye of anxious 
longing. Oh, if she could have but wandered awhile 
among the lodges, seeking information, acquiring, cau- 
tiously, a certainty as to the fate of Wau-nig-sootsh-kah ! 
And yet all inquiries, she knew, would have been fruitless. 
If be had left, it had been without imparting his intentions 
to any one ; while, if one of his; people had accidentally 
learned of his flight, no word, no sign, not the quivering of 
a muscle, would have betrayed the truth to an inquirer. 
Reflections such as these taught her that her best wisdom 
was to remain quietly near the commanding ofiicer, making 
herself useful to him, and striving to acquire such an influ- 
ence as would; be advantageous in future efforts for her 
friends. 

She took the seat the colonel had caused to be made 
ready for her by his soldiers, and here he soon left her, 
that he might give orders for such arrangements as he 


304 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

deemed necessary’ to the safety and well-being of his com- 
mand. 

An incident occurred soon after the colonel quitted her 
which gave her food for uncomfortable speculations. 

A small company of Winnebagoes made their appear- 
ance, coming out on the forest road, from the quarter oppo- 
site the portage and trading-house. They evidently were 
friends and desired to appear such. They saluted the com- 
manding officer, and one of them who spoke a little Chip- 
pewa endeavored to explain that they were travelling 
peaceably to their home at the Four Lakes. Mr. Ewing 
was called upon to interpret to them what the colonel had 
to say in reply, which was simply that they must give up 
their arms and consent to remain close prisoners until the 
business which brought the military into the country should 
be accomplished. Monica’s heart swelled with bitterness 
when she saw the wild looks of surprise and alarm with 
which this notification was received, and her feeling of 
gratitude to Ewing was of corresponding intensity when 
she marked the effect of his soothing assurances to the na- 
tives that they should be well cared for, and their guns 
and other weapons be restored to them in safety ere long, 
and while she listened to his kindly efforts to set them at 
ease by questioning them about their journey, the abun- 
dance of game, the varieties of fish in the little lakes in the 
neighborhood, and the different wintering grounds to which 
they resorted in the proper season for their hunting and 
trapping. 

It was not until she saw them comparatively reassured 
that she began to look about her. She wondered that she 
saw nothing of her sister and M. Tremblay. The extended 
level around her was full of busy life. Tents were being 
pitched, stores brought up from the boats and placed under 
shelter, fatigue-parties were transporting wood from the 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


805 


forest for culinary purposes — every variety of preparation 
was going on, giving animation to the scene. Mrs. Smart 
and Mrs. Hale were visible in the distance, awaiting the 
proper moment for superintending the arrangement of their 
own special accommodations; but no Madeleine or M. 
Tremblay was in view. 

“I am afraid she is going a little too far,’^ she mur- 
mured. “ Without doubt, Logan is taking advantage of my 
absence and lingering near her, instead of hastening to 
engage Lapierre to attend at once to our transportation.^^ 
She was about rising with the intention of going in search 
of her sister, when she became aware of the tall figure of a 
Winnebago, with his blanket folded around him, standing 
quite close to her, but somewhat screened from the obser- 
vation of others by a stunted tree against which he had 
been leaning. She waited to hear what he might have to 
say before accosting him ; then, as he did not speak, she 
ventured, in a low tone, the inquiry, — 

“ Tshah-ko-zhah (Who, or what is it ?) 

“ Mau-nee-kah I” he exclaimed, with evident satisfaction 
— then added, “ Tell them not to strike — in two days they 
will come in.” 

“ Who will come in ?” Her voice trembled with the ques- 
tion. “All of them?” 

“ No ; only two.” 

“ Wee-kau and Tshah-nee-kah ?” 

No answer. She looked around^the Indian was gone. 
She arose, and walked in the direction in which she thought 
he must have disappeared ; she could see only a few canoes 
paddling about in the river below the bluff, in none of 
which could she discern a figure like the one which had 
been addressing her. 

She considered it her duty not to withhold from the 
commanding officer the message confided to her. 

26 * 


306 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ Oh, no,” said the colonel, in his usual off-hand manner 
“ I shall not strike until joined by the troops from the Mis- 
sissippi, at all events. It is not probable that, we shall be 
under the necessity of making any demonstration at all. 
These fellows understand by this time that matters have 
got to a serious pass — that there is to be no boys’ play 
with them. Oh, yes, they’ll come in — never lear — they’ll 
come in. 

Monica moved along towards the place where she had 
ascended from the landing, esteeming herself fortunate in 
encountering Mr. Ewing on her way thither. As for Cap- 
tain Lytle, remembering his- rebuff of the day before, he 
held himself aloof. Perhaps he thought it politic to punish 
the young lady by a show of indifference. “It was hardly 
worth while to have applied to be attached to the expedi- 
tion for the sake bf seeing her again, if this is the way I am 
tO; be rewarded 1” had been his indignant soliloquy. “ I 
shall show her that her power is not altogether what she 
imagines it to be.” So he sulked in the distance, and left 
Miss McGrregor to find an escort as she might. 

“ Mr. Ewing, may I ask the favor of your arm, while I 
go to find my sister ?” she said, without ceremony ; and 
Ewing, who had been looking forward to an opportunity 
of a chat with Madeleine about her friend Miss Latimer, 
gladly offered his services to assist Miss McGregor doWn 
the steep path which conducted to the landing-place. . 

To her surprise, she found the Company’s boats still 
where she had left them. She had hoped that they were 
already at the trading-house on the other side. Sunday 
though it was, things were in a lively commotion; and 
Madeleine, seated upon a projection of the bank, with M. 
Tremblay on the one side, and on the other the bourgeois, 
holding her parasol to screen her from the sun, was looking 
on and listening with amused interest. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


3or 


A few words will explain the scene which meti Miss 
McGregor’s view. '* She had scarcely quitted the landing 
in company with Colonel Bentley when Logaiij feeling that 
there were considerations paramount even to the prompt 
transportation of the boats across the portage, set about 
the arrangements necessary to insure to 'the ladies every 
comfort and accommodation in their unforeseen change of 
quarters. His first care was to ascertain whether there 
was a spring of pure water in the vicinity ; and, finding 
there was nothing of the kind, his next step was to borrow 
a couple of small canoes and send some of his men a dis- 
tance up the stream with kegs to be filled from that portion 
of the river which had remained undisturbed and undefiled 
by such an element as now blocked up the bend in which 
the little navy lay. 

The propriety of there being always some one at hand 
upon whom the sisters should ha ve a right do call at any 
moment from reveille till -dattoo, seemed self-evident;' 
Logan therefore announced his intention of taking up his 
quarters in the ladies’ boat, which was to Jbe left behind 
when the others were taken around to the trading-house. 
His plan meeting the approbation of the fair listener to 
whom he imparted it, his next step was to make choice of 
a persondo whom the five boats could'be safely Confided to 
be sent with their precious cargoes ‘to the trading-house. 
The clerks, each one of whom had the immediate Super- 
vision of a boat, were all young and inexperibnced^person- 
ally unacquainted with Lapierre, with the peculiarities of 
the Portage, with the Puans as a people. Logan himself/ 
remembering that he labored under the same disad vantages/ 
had been disposed to make old Michaud, the only compe- 
tent and experienced person-ofdhe outfit, bourgeois de facto 
■ — it now occurred to make him so de jure. He was not 
an oarsman ; in fact, he was rather a mate, or lieutenant. 


308 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


Truly, there was no one so eligible to the post as the cheer- 
ful, energetic, well-trained old hivernant. He would take 
the boats round to the trading-house and keep them as the 
apple of his eye, till the moment when it should be con- 
venient for his chief to resume command. 

Proud and delighted was Michaud at the trust reposed 
in him, and his elation was, if possible, enhanced by the 
vociferous cheers with which both clerks and engages re- 
ceived the injunction, delivered in the clear, ringing tones 
of the master, to “ respect the authority of their new bour- 
geois, and to aid him in the fulfilment of his duty by every 
means in their power.’’ 

Fully appreciating the glory of his position, Michaud 
lost no time in mounting an elevation from which he could, 
“by permission,” speak a few words to his subordinates. 

“ I will say what I have to say before Monsieur Mark,” 
he began, in his amusing patois, “ that he may see I un- 
derstand my business. Now, first, our men, you will 
understand that you can have no frolic at the stopping- 
place over there. There are savages all round— more 
than plenty^ — so you must keep sober, and give up the 
pleasure of being put in punishment to-morrow, as is our 
general custom the second day of a halt.” 

A chorus of “ Ho-g-h,” like the Indian grunt of assent, 
followed this announcement. 

“ Next, you must none of you expect to go off to a dance 
or a tea-party to-night, for the Puan beaux are very fond 
of finery, and, as they have got no hats of their own, they 
might want to help themselves to your honnets-rouges,'^ 
and perhaps take too much of the top of the head along 
with them, by mistake.” ( 

/ 

* The red caps, sometimes called tuques, which the voyageurs wear in 
their journeys. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


309 


“Ho-g-hl” 

“ Nor must you go philandering about the meadows 
where the pretty Neechee girls are milking their cows ; for 
the horns of ‘the Puan cows are all filled with gunpowder, 
and they are apt, as we hear, to go off if a Frenchman does 
but look at them.” 

“ Ho-g^h 1” 

And for another thing———” But here Michaud^s 
harangue was cut short by the voice of young Logan. 

“ Listen to me instead, our men. I have just received 
an order from the commanding officer to tie up the boats 
on this side. Ah 1 there he is, himself,” as Colonel Bentley 
appeared on the path descending to the landing. 

“ I wish to impress upon you, young man,” said the 
officer, addressing the bourgeois, “the necessity of a strict 
observance of the order my sergeant has just handed you. 
I have come myself to mention this, because I remember 
' that on a former occasion an order which I issued to these 
boats was misunderstood. Not a single boat,” turning and 
gesticulating towards them, “must move from the spot 
where it now lies. It would be running an unpardonable 
risk to take them to the trading-house, which is, I see by 
j my glass, surrounded with Indians. For the same reason 
j that I have endeavored to keep them under my eye thus 
j far, I still hold charge of them. See to it, if you please, 
that not one of them quits its present station.” 

“ Your orders shall be obeyed, sir,” said Logan ; and 
the colonel, without farther parley, retraced his steps up 
I the bank to what might now be called the encampment. 


310 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER XLII. * 

Michaud, with a shrug of the shoulders and a grimace 
at the retreating form of the commanding officer,, descended 
from his rostrum, a “ saere mon diable” winding-up the 
oration he had been, so glibly delivering. 

“Eh b’ani— I wonder whose: nose Xanna-bozho- has 
given a pat to, this) time 1’^ was the malicious, observation 
of the “excellent CoquillardJV' 

“Rit b’an qui rit le-.dernier,^^* said Michaud, sharply. 
“ My nose isn’t out. Oif .'joint, if you please. I, am as much 
bourgeois, here as I should have been on the other side — . 
voyez-vous. The-.b^ats and their crews are in my eharge 
till we get into the Wisconsin, be sure of thatJ’ . 

Matters had Reached this point when a corporal with a 
squad of men made his appeafanoe at the. little landing in 
front of which the covered boat, or, as the bourgeois called 
it, “ the ladies’ boat,” was moored ; the others lying ranged 
side by feide in . compact order. The corporal felt that he 
was an officer, albeit a non-commissioned one, and he 
promptly called out,: in a bluff tone,— 

“ Halloo, meni! just draw off your, boat. . We are going 
to bring in one or two. of ours that some of the greenhorns 
have shoved up stream.” 

Nobody stirred ;! it was nobody’s business, to do so, 
without the orders of the bourgeois. The: dogged air of 
old Michaud was a sufficient hint to the Yankee to whom 
to address himself. 

“ I say, Jean Baptiste, or whatever your name is, I want 


*• He laughs best who laughs last. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


311 


them boats out of the way, that I may bring in my cap- 
tain’s things and the iother oflBcers’; Come, step lively, 
will ye 

One of the mangeurs de lardj hearing his own name 
called, made a forward movement. 

“ Kien (tiens), nos pincettes-^halteda!”* was the prompt 
order of the new bourgeois. 

The latter word was dntelligible to the soldier. 

“ Halt ? Why ! ain’t you a goih^ to move, and let me 
bring my; boats in^ I want to know ?” 

“ Pas si bete,”f was Mkhaud^s laeonic response^ 

“ I don’t know what you mean by bait,” said the corpo- 
ral ; and, what’s more, I can’t say as I know what you 
mean anyhow. But this much I know^ that I want to 
come up to this, here landing to take out my load, and I 
rather guess I shall. You’ve gone and scrouged yourself 
into my place.” 

‘Aujourd’hui 6’est le jour de Lambert, 

Celui qui laisse sa place le perd !’ 

cried Michaud, at the top of hiS voice, his companions 
sending tap a shout of applause. The Soldiet’s patience 
was exhausted. 

“ I don’t want to hear any of your darned French gib- 
berish,” he cried. want you to do as you’re asked ; if 
not, you’ll do as you are ordered — ^for youil bo reported to 
: the colonel in less than three shakes of a goose’s tail, if 
■you don’t stir your stumps.” 

“And I tell you,” cried Michaud, finding all of a shdden 
a very respectable degree of English with whkh to make' 
himself understood, “that I don’t stir one stump--me. 

£ ^ 

. Hold on, Tongs— pstop there, , 

t N^ot such a fool, 

X To-day it is St. Lambert's day. 

If you quit your place you lose it for aye. 


312 MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 

MoDsieur le Gollo-nell he stand dere,’' pointing to the bank, 
“ and he shake his sword at me, and he look so tall ever 
he can,” here Michaud, in imitation of the majestic port 
of the officer, drew up to his full height, which was, to be 
sure, not much to speak of, and shot fierce glances out of his 
clear gray eyes, as he set his square teeth firmly and bran- 
dished his arm, “and he say to me, ‘See you keep fight 
in dat spotl Don’t you move one boat; no, not one foot.’ 
Dat is my order, and I keep him. Je ne bouge pas — moi.” 

Michaud had received his consigne, and it is part of the 
code of a voyageur to fulfil unflinchingly what he has been 
appointed to do. It was a triumph, moreover, to be able 
so speedily to assert his authority as bourgeois before the 
snub-nosed Coquillard. It was just at this moment that 
Miss McGregor and Mr. Ewing appeared, and received 
from Madeleine an explanation of what was going forward. 

“ I suppose I had better interpose,” said the young lady, 
“ since you, Mr. Logan, perhaps hardly feel at liberty to 
resume the powers you have delegated to Michaud.” 

Madeleine fancied there was a tone of dissatisfaction in 
her sister’s voice ; but, without further remark, the latter 
stepped forward to the boat, where she soon made the 
deputy bourgeois understand how agreeable it would be to 
her to see him give way to the corporal for awhile. At the 
first words of the young lady came the cheerful response, — 
“ Pour le sur,” quickly followed by the order, — 

“ Yite en besogne, nos gens ! aux avirons I” And with- 
out further loss of time a chance was given to Corporal 
Cotton to bring in his boat, with its luggage and appli- 
ances for -his officers’ comfort. 

This little episode at an end, the thoughts of Miss Mc- 
Gregor reverted to their former channel. She seated 
herself near her sister, taking, however, no part in the con- 
versation that was going on ; her thoughts were far away. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS., \ 313 

“ Another long and weary day must pass before I can 
obtain any news.” Such was her sad soliloquy. “At 
the end of two days, the Winnebago said, they will come 
in. Can it be that the chiefs have come to the resolution 
to give them up? Wau-nig-sootsh-kah affirmed that they 
would not do so ; I’^et it seems incredible that Wee-kau, the 
meanest and worst Indian in the tribe, should be capable 
of the magnanimity of surrendering himself to save his 
people. Perhaps his associate is one equally debased with 
himself, and it is accounted by the leaders in the tribe good 
policy to give them into the hands of those who will admin- 
ister justice to them. -Still, that is so unlike them ! By going 
over to Lapierre^s I might possibly see some of the braves, 
and learn more of the matter. Why should I not go ? / am 
certainly under no interdict — but then, -Madeleine ” 

She looked around for M. Tremblay ; that worthy gen- 
tleman was no longer at hand. He had seized the first 
chance of slipping away and mounting the bank, in search 
of his military friend ; not that he exactly expected the 
merry captain to sit down with him, on this sacred day, to 
his favorite game, though “ Out here, ’mong de sauvages, 
where nobody couldn’t know it, dere couldn’t be nevair no 
scandals to do it,” had been his inward remark. 

Mr. Ewing’s approach, at this moment, inspired Miss 
McGregor with a sudden resolution. 

“ Would you have any objection to escorting me over to 
the Company’s trading-house ?” she said. “ The men who 
have gone for water will soon be back, and I am much 
inclined to let them take one of the canoes and paddle me 
over, in search of news of some kind.” 

“ It will give me great pleasure to go,” said the young 
man. “ Will you allow me to paddle you instead of the 
engages? It seems a matter of moment to keep them as 
well as the boats on this side of the river.” 


314 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ If you will be so very good, it will doubtless save some 
trouble to-morrow. My sister will, of eourse, prefer not 
to come ; I must be the one to take the information.” She 
approached the bourgeois. “ Mr. Logan, is it not time to 
be taking some thought about our accommodations for the 
night, ‘f” 

“ I am awaiting your orders, madam,” wa-s the reply. 
“I have not been apprised whether I am to have the tents 
pitched within the verge of the encampment or somewhat 
outside, or whether you propose to avail yourself of Colonel 
Bentley’s offer of a marquee.” 

“Oh, no — no marquee. If you can select a spot quite 
near the western brow of the hill, just opposite the portage 
road, and have a couple of tents pitched there — one for 
my sister and myself, and the other for M. Tremblay and 
a clerk, who may act as a messenger in case of necessity. 
There is no occasion to make any provision for our meals, 
for I have promised Mrs. Smart to join her mess for to- 
morrow and the next day. And*, by-the-by, Madeleine, it 
would be as well that you should go and find Mrs. Smart 
and Mrs. Hale at once, for I am going over to Lapierre’s 
on an errand of importance. Where can M. Tremblay be ? 
I am afraid* he has forgotten us.?’ 

M. Tremblay had not forgotten his own accommodation 
• — it was that which brought him back to the landing at the 
very moment he was wanted. He had wandered around and 
through the encampment without finding Captain Lovel. 

“ He was hei'e awhile ago;” said 'Gaylord. 

“I saw him mixing a pretty stiff tumbler of toddy, in 
the colonel’s marquee, half an hour since,” was the infor- 
mation accorded by the quartermaster. 

“ I heard him rating his corporal for being so long in 
bringing up his buffalo robe and blankets,” put in the 
citizen-surgeon of the expedition. 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


315 


“Ah I den he mus’ be get sleepy — want to take one leet’ 
nap,” was the inference of Monsieur, after putting that and 
that together. “I hunt him once more.” And by peering 
round he soon dijscovered his friend’s rubicund face, giving 
token, as he lay snoring in his tent, that his potation had 
been none of th6 mildest. 

“ Well, I go see about some tebt myself,” said the worthy 
gentleman, as he bent his steps towards the landing. 

“Well, I never expected to see Mrs. Smart so quiet 
when there was business going on,” i^emarked Mr.: Gaylord, 
as he walked a feW' steps along with him. She sits there 
like , Patience on a monument I” — simile, that .tickled . M. 
Tremblay hugely, and which he repeated to himself, as he 
carefully picked bis steps down the hill. * 

_ Ah.!, here comes Monsieur^ Did you see anything: of 

Mrs. Smart and Mrs. Hale while you were up on the plain, 
monsieur i? And haee .they got tbeiV' tent; pitched and 
things arranged inquired Miss McGregor. 

“ Oh, de tent not,a.bit;ready yet. Dey, 'Stand dere like 
two patient on ope monument — no, like one. patient on two 
monument — waiting’ for his two husband to have someting 
fix ' ready. Mr, ; Smart have so i many leet! ; quolquechoses 
to see to, so de soldiers not steal den after dat he see to 
de lady. I always sfee to de-lady first — mcf.^^- 

“ M. Tremblay will go With you to join them, Madeleine* 
I shall not be back till after retreat. Beg Mrs. Smart to 
give herself no .trouble on my account; I dare say we 
shall get a cup of tea with Madame Lapierre. And if you 
see tho, colonel, tell him I will keep- military, hours, and be 
in before tattoo.’.’ And, hSayy as was her heart, Monica 
went away with' a- cheerful air, to seiek; tidings of- weal or 
woe at the trading-house. . . : 


316 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

The little canoe, or rather pirogue, which was to convey 
Miss McGregor had been, by order of the young bourgeois, 
thickly carpeted with the coarse prairie-grass, and^ into it 
she stepped, taking her seat carefully at one end, while 
Ewing knelt in the other and dexterously plied his paddle. 
His rapid strokes, now on the right hand and now on the 
left, caused the little craft to shoot through the water with 
the velocity of a bird, as it threaded the sinuosities of the 
narrow stream, alternately advancing and then apparently 
retreating, until it brought them to the small dock or plat- 
form in front of the trading-house. 

A sharp, yelping chorus, from any number of Indian 
dogs belonging to the surrounding lodges, was their ungra- " 
cious and only welcome. No one came forth to meet the 
young lady, though a roguish-looking boy who was stand- 
ing near hopped after her as she walked, and a girl with a 
well-grown child, packed papoose-fashion in a dirty cotton 
shawl, stared at her with a sort of admiring wonder, and 
kept pace with the steps by which she and the secretary 
approached the largest building in the group — the house 
of Lapierre. 

It was a comfortable tenement, built of tamarack logs 
chinked and daubed with mud, then whitewashed to give 
it an air of neatness. The roof was of bark, and the chim- 
ney of small stones ; and it had a lean-to of a rougher con- 
struction, large enough to accommodate a kitchen, and also 
a hangar or store-room. There were other buildings for 
the use of teamsters, blacksmiths, farmers, et cetera, alto- 
gether forming quite a little hamlet. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


31t 


The room which the visitors entered was furnished with 
plain, substantial tables and chairs, and a neat-lobking bed 
stood in one corner of the room. The floor was covered 
with Indian mats of a tasteful, pretty pattern. Altogether, 
the little parlor of Madame Lapierre, or Madame Glode,* 
for it was more the fashion to give her her busband^s 
Christian name, would have outshone the quarters of many 
a young lieutenant at a frontier post in that day. 

The bed was not unoccupied. Upon it lay an infant, 
apparently in the last stages of prostration and debility, 
and over it was bending the mother, as was unmistakable 
from the look of haggard anxiety in her dark, wan counte- 
nance. She was a tall and meagre person, with the features 
and complexion that announce the metive in whom the first 
bloom of youth is past. Her long, dark hair was drawn 
back from her forehead and gathered into a mass behind, 
around which were wound a few dark ribbons embroidered 
with beads. Her dress and the small shawl around her 
shoulders were of the peculiar sort of print called Indienne, 
in which the aboriginal maidens delight, but which would 
be sought in vain in the shop of a city trader. 

Miss McGregor approached with the half-inquiry;— 

“ It. is not Madame Glode ?” / 

Non — elle est pas icite — ils se sont sauves— tons — k 
Pautre bout.”f 

“ Run away ? Over to the Wisconsin 
“Oui, chez Madame Amelle — ’ienqu’ pour crier des be- 
loits,”J she explained, correcting herself. 

Will they be home soon 
“I suppose.’^ 


Claude. 

t She is not here. They have run away to the other end of the portage. 
X At Madame Amelle’s, but only to get some whortleberries. 

2 ?* 


318 


MARK LOGAN, TUil BOURGEOIS. 


“ Was not Lapierrei expecting our boats? Did not the 
Courte-rOreille, Le Loup, tell him we were on the way ?” 

“ I suppose — hut no one that can get away cares. to stay 
and see the. Big Knives, till they know what they come 
for,.?!; . ■ 

‘f, Surely Lapierre would not be such a goose as to run 
away ! What have the soldiers to do with him, pray? 
He should have, stayed here and attended to his business. 
It «eems that the Puads themselves have had more sense I” 
Miss McGregor was excessively vexed. ♦ 

. “ Les sauvages ? Pardonne.- — there are none but women 
-in thedodges#. The white soldiers do not barm women.” 

“It is certainly very provoking. Did Lapierre leave no 
message fojt me ?”, . • ^ 

. “1 do. not know. I do not live here I dive- over by 
Goose Lake, and I have brought my sick baby in for. Ma- 
dame Glode’s advice.” ' 

“ Your baby looks indeed very ill. Gould Madame Glode 
give it nothing to relieve it i 

“.She made it a tisane after a receipt of Madame Cu- 
croche, but it has not helped* it And now, the pbor little 
one-l- I have done for it the last that I can think of ” She 
turned back the blanket with wbifch the infant was cov- 
ered, and- displayed a heart of scarlet cloth lying upon the 
chest of the child and held in place by a string around its 
neck. 

“ If the bleeding>heart of our good Lord does not work 
a cure,” said the mother, with patient resignation, “we 
must submit to His will. I placed it tiaere in the . name 
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Glibst. 
Amen.” 

There was all the devotion of faith in the manner of the 
poor woman as she crossed herself, then clasped her hands 
and stood as if waiting and still hoping that a miracle 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


319 


might interpose to save her little one.. Monica felt rebuked 
for her own want of patience; and. forcing herself, as a 
penance, to manifest still further interest in the baby, she 
inquired, — 

“ Was it a healthy, strong child before this sickness 

“No ; it was always delicate. It was born in the cold, 
damp, spring weather. I was at my sugar-camp. I was 
all alone-^no, not alone, for the good God was with me. 
But I had sent my sister in for Madame Petaille, the sage- 
femme ■” 

Mr, Ewing walked away, but Miss McGregor was com- 
pelled to listen to the history of sufferings and hardships- 
such as, in the former days, were no rarity among wives 
and mothers on the frontier. 

“ Are you the sister of Madame Glode she asked. 
“ You resemble her.” . 

“ No ; our mothers were sisters— I-ho-w ays.” 

“ And the family left you and your sick baby here alone ?” 

“No, Madame Cu-croche* was here just now. She has 
gone to give orders about the cows of Genevieve — Madame 
Glode, that is.” ' 

“ What a name — Cu-croche ! Is she a sauvagesse ?”f 

“ She is a metive. For the name— it is the way the voy- 
ageurs like to call her husband — he was chief cl6rk here 
before Lapierre.” 

“ Surely you do not mean Hugh Ross, the Scotchman ?” 

“B’an oui— Monsieur Cu-roche,I some say,— ’ienqu’ 
pour badiner.”§ 

“It is certainly,” thought Monica, “an inconvenient 
sort of badinage that distorts the names of Christian people 
in this way. I heard Michaud, only yesterday, speaking 
of the bourgeois as Monsieur L’Eau Grande — but this is 

-^‘Crook-tail. | Indian woman. | Stone-tail. | Just for fun. 

21 


820 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


terribly disrespectful.^^ She again addressed the woman : 
“ We have a doctor at the encampment. Would you like 
to have me send him over to visit your baby 

“ Non, merci. I had rather trust to this. The doctor 
might give him a movitif.* The medicines of the white 
doctors make too sick — too sick.’’ 

The boy from without had entered during this dialogue, 
and was lounging against the door-cheek, drawing a pat- 
tern on the narrow strip of floor with his damp toes. The 
mother caught sight of him, and addressed him in her 
broadest patois : — 

“Vitelle — faineant — ote-toai I Ya crier les vaches pour 
Madame Cu-croche, p’is les tirer.”f 

‘'Je n’en tire pas toutes — moai — je n’en tire ’ienqu’ 
deux.”| 

“ Comb’ est-ce qu’il y en a?”§ 

‘"’Y a trbis; puis Dimmy doit tirer une,”|| he said, with 
a whine. 

“ Yilain crapaud que tu est! Ote-toai, ou je crais que 
je vas t’assommer.”^ 

Well understanding that this threat, which was uttered 
in the most gentle of tones, was a mere figure of speech. 
Miss McGregor did not concern herself to see what would 
be its effect upon the contumacious Vitelle, but, with a few 
more words of sympathy and encouragement, walked forth 
to try what she could gather in the way of information 
among the Ho-tshung-rah matrons and maidens. 

* A vomitif or emetic. 

f Vitelle, lazy-bones — take yourself off. Go get the cows for Madame 
Cu-crocho and milk them. 

t I shall not milk all of them — I shall milk only two. 

g How many are there ? 

11 There are three, and Dimmy must milk one. 

^ Miserable toad ! Take yourself off, or I believe I shall knock you 
down ! 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


321 


Pleasant smiles and hand-shakings testified the satisfac- 
tion with which her salutation in their own vernacular was 
received. All were ready with their “ Bon-jour — bon-jour ! 
Mau-nee-kah 1 Hee-nee-kar-ray-kay-noo 1”* — but no one had 
an item of news to give her. To all her questions the 
most vague and unsatisfactory answers were returned. 

“ Where are all the chiefs and braves 

“ They were far off — they might be at the Barribault — 
they might be at the Four Lakes — some lived farther still, 
on the Rocky River.^’ 

“ A message had been sent that they were ‘ coming in’ 
on the second day. Who were coming 

“ It might be that the chiefs would come in, to ask what 
the Big Knives wanted.” 

“ But it was no secret what the Big Knives wanted. 
They had told plainly enough at the council at Khaar-ay- 
t’hay-noo.f They have come for the people who killed the 
Gagnier family.” 

“ Yes — for them.” 

‘‘ Will the chiefs bring them in and give them up ?” 

“ The chiefs do not tell the women what they will do.” 

“And the braves — have they lost their tongues also?” 

“ The braves are not here — they are far away.” 

“ Far away !” said Miss McGregor. “ That may mean 
down at Man-Eater’s village, or lying perdu behind the 
nearest clump of hazel-bushes yonder. There is nothing 
to be done but to return to the camp as wise as I left it.” 

And she did return, sad and dejected, to wait another 
twenty-four hours, or perhaps even longer, before receiving 
the assurance of the safety of him to whom her heart clung 
so fondly. 

* The walker or traveller — how do you do ? The French ‘‘ Good-day’^ 
is used by all the tribes of the Northwest, 
f The Little Butte des Morts. 


322 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

The strain upon her nerves had been greater than Mo- 
nica’s physical strength and mental energy, great as they 
were, could sustain. On the morning of the following day 
she found herself suffering with such an acute headache 
that she was compelled to desist from the task of dressing, 
and return to her hard couch of buffalo robes and blankets 
upon the ground of the tent. 

Madeleine had a fire kindled on the brow of the hill at a 
little distance, and a cup of tea made, which she vainly 
tried to persuade her sister to partake of. 

“ Leave me alone,” said Monica. “It is my best chance 
of, being well for to-morrow.” 

“ Why for to-morrow ? Are we going to leave then? 
Will they take the boats over to-day?” 

No — I don’t know — no matter. Only let me be quiet.” 

An uncomfortable train of thought passed through her 
mind : — 

“ It is leaving the fawn to the hunter, I suppose ; but I 
cannot help it. It was a sad mistake to allow this to have 
a beginning ; but it is too late to think of that now.” 

Still, she did think of it, and the thought did not tend 
to quiet her nerves ; neither did her speculations upon the 
probable whereabouts of General A.’s command at this 
moment — whether it had, as Captain Level predicted, 
“dammed up the Wisconsin,” and made the passage of 
Wau-nig-sootsh-kah to the land of the Omahas an under- 
taking of peculiar danger and difiBculty. 

It was not until noon had passed that she began to ex- 
perience any mitigation of her evil symptoms ; even then, 
she scarcely felt in spirits to rise. While she was debating 
whether she should do so, she heard the voices of persons 
passing outside, in close proximity to the tent. 

“ Yes, this messenger, whoever he might be,” said one 
speaker, “ repeated the same information that Miss Me- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


323 


Gregor received yesterday ; then he was gone like a shot. 
He said they would come in to-morrow ; and, by the quarter 
of the sky he pointed to, I judged it would be about three 
o’clock.” 

“ I would have come over earlier, but I thought Miss 
McGregor would interpret for you.” 

By the low, measured accents, as well as by the tenor 
of his words, Monica recognized Lapierre. The other 
speaker was the commanding officer. 

Oh, what an opportunity had she lost I She sprang up, 
thinking it not too late, perhaps, to dress herself and follow 
them. .She must learn something further. But the effort 
was useless. Her head turned so with giddiness, and the 
pain was so blinding, that she was obliged again to throw 
herself prostrate upon her hard couch. 

“ If Madeleine were only here I” she said. 

Her sister had sat beside her all the forenoon, and had 
only left her at the summons of M. Tremblay, because 
Monica insisted on her not disappointing Mrs. Smart, with 
whom she was to dine. Perhaps she had never welcomed 
her sister so cordially as at this moment, when she made 
her appearance accompanied by an engage bearing hot 
coffee, biscuit, marmalade- — every delicacy, in short, within 
the range of Mrs. Smart’s mess-baskets. But it was not 
upon the tempting dainties that Miss McGregor bestowed 
a look. 

‘‘ Ah I you’ve returned I I’m so glad I Lapierre is here. 
Can you find him and bring him to the door of the tent ? 
I must speak with him.” 

“ Lapierre ? Yes, I saw him ; but he is not here now. 
He has just left for the other side. The colonel has re- 
moved his interdict in regard to the boats. He allows all, 
except the one in which all the guns and ammunition are 
to be placed, to be taken round to the trading-house ; and 


324 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


Lapierre hurried back to help arrange about putting the 
cargoes in his hangar, so that the boats can be transported 
at once across the portage.” 

‘‘ How did you learn all this 

“ It was Lapierre himself who told me.” 

“Where is Logan?” 

“ I suppose with the boats, expediting matters. I have 
not seen him.” 

“That is well,” thought Miss McGregor. “After all, 
Madeleine does not forget her position as a lady ; and, for- 
tunately, the young man seems to recollect just at present 
that he is nothing but a bourgeois. Matters may not turn 
out so badly, after all ; and yet ” Here the recollec- 

tion came up of what she had witnessed at the Grande 
Chute. 

“ That was decisive. He kissed her, and she permitted 
it ! She has, then, promised to be his wife. And my father, 
what will he say ? If he loved me not too well before, 
what will be his feelings towards me now ?” 

It was, upon the whole, rather a relief to her that La- 
pierre was gone. With that inconsistency which all have 
experienced, she shrunk from the possible chance of hearing 
truths which would wellnigh have annihilated her. If she 
should have learned, for instance, that there was a shade 
of doubt whether the Red Bird had been able to evade the 
vigilance of the military or the prying eyes of the settlers 
and squatters. But why should she suggest such doubts ? 
Doubts 1 there were none. He was gone. Fate (she 
dared not say Providence) would never be so cruel as to 
make the contrary possible. Had Wau-nig-sootsh-kah failed 
in his enterprise, would he not have sent a message to ap- 
prise her of it ? Assuredly he would. Her hearing no- 
thing was proof conclusive that all was well. And since, 
happily, there was no cause for solicitude on Madeleine’s 


MARK LOOAK, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


325 


account cither, the best course was to tranquillize her 
feelings by dismissing every painful thought and uncom- 
fortable foreboding. 


€HAPTER XLiY. 

There was everywhere an appearance of unusual activity 
as Miss McGregor looked forth over the parade-ground oa 
the following morning. 

She was aware what event was expected to take place 
— was being diligently prepared for ; and she resolved to 
ask no questions. Wee-kau and Tshah-nee-kah were not, 
it is true, characters to enlist her tender sympathy, but 
there is something in the enactment of Justice towards the 
most hardened criminal, that is solemn, almost appalling. 

The accused were “ coming in,” to be surrendered to the 
arm of the white man^s law ; under the circumstances, 
condemnation and death were inevitably to follow. 

She was afraid lest Colonel Bentley, in his satisfaction 
at having accomplished the object of his mission so easily, 
would insist on descanting upon the subject to her. 
This, she knew, would be more than she could bear. 

To defeat any such intention, she signalled M. Tremblay, 
who was awaiting her at a little distance, and, with Made- 
leine, slipped quietly along to the tent of Mrs. Smart, 
just as the drum and fife were sending forth with vigor 
the breakfast-call of “Pease upon a trencher.” And the 
officers, old and young, were hurrying as well-bred gent- 
tlemen, ay, and even gentlemen in love, will hurry, in 
obedience to that inspiring summons. 

The commanding officer’s marquee and the tents of the 
28 


326 MARK LOGAKy THE BOURGEOIS. 

other gentlemen, civil and military, were stretched along 
the northern verge of the little plain. On the same line, 
hut farther removed from the front looking over towards 
the portage, was the establishment of Mrs. Smart — a small 
camp, in which were accommodated the Hale family, as 
well as an ample supply of stores, both substantials and deli- 
cacies; the latter embracing a tempting variety of game 
which the enterprising lady had alfeady contrived to forage. 

Miss McGregor had made choice of the corner diagonal 
to this oh which to place her tent. Overlooking the port- 
age and fronting on the river, it was the point to which 
the canoe of an Indian might steal with least danger of de- 
tection, should it so happen that some one should wish to 
send her a message. Her spirits rose as it became now 
almost certain that there was no one at hand to whom it 
would be a matter of importance to communicate with her. 

The soldiers of the command and the Indian allies were 
camped between the parade-ground and the forest ; a chain 
of sentinels keeping guard outside the whole. 

Mrs. Smart was now at the door of her tent to receive 
the young ladies, whom she welcomed with voluble eager- 
ness. 

“ Set you right down here,’^ she said. “ You won’t mind 
its being only a candle-box ? for we can’t, you know, bring 
chairs and such things with us. We must all make allow- 
ances for each other. I’ve done one good thing,” lowering 
her voice ; “ I’ve given Mrs. Hale and her young ones an 
early breakfast and packed them off into their own tent. 
Ho brats for me, I thank you, when I am expecting com- 
pany. You see,” with her comical wink and screw of the 
mouth, “ my Corbin brought me a few nice little blue- 
winged teal, that I didn’t think it worth while to waste on 
everybody. I would have liked to have had Smart taste 
them ; but he had to be off early, over to the other side, to 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


32^ 


see what chastice there was about getting our boats across 
the portage. Not that we want to interfere with anybody 
else, I’m sure; but everybody has to put in a little for 
themselves in such times as these. Well, now, I wish that 
young man would come I I guess it wouldn^t be worth 
while to wait breakfast for him, though, and let everything 
spoil. Mr. Bo-jo I call him sometimes in a hurry, but I’m 
sure I ought to remember his other name. I have said a 
piece about it many a time, out of the American Perceptor : — 
‘ Who will mourn for Logan ? Not one I’ ” she declaimed, 
with a theatrical air. 

“ Not a very consoling announcement, Mrs. Smart : I 
hope it is not strictly true,” said the young gentleman in 
question, as he at the, moment made his appearance from 
the ascending path. 

“Oh, my, gracious I pray excuse me— no, indeed, Mr. 
Logan,” said the discomposed hostess. “ It was only a 
little bit of poetry I was a repeating. I’m sure I didn’t 
mean it for truth.” 

“Not more truth than poetry, perhaps,” said Logan, 
laughing. 

“ Not a bit ; you are so kind I You know I didn’t mean 
anything disrespectful. And here’s Miss McGregor inside. 
She’s a good deal better, though I can’t say I think she 
looks quite like herself yet — a little bit peaking or so ; but 
Miss Madeleine’s just as bright as a May morning. No, 
no, take your seat I don’t you mind me. I can take care 
of number one — I always do.” 

“Yes, please sit down — no ceremony,” said Miss Mc- 
Gregor; “and when we have breakfasted we will hear 
what has been done, and what yet remains to do. My 
sister has told me of the good fortune of being able to send 
our boats round to the trading-house.” 

Mrs. Smart made herself as entertaining as was in her 


328 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


power, with an account of her having sent two of her people 
“ on the sly,” the evening before, with crackers and loaf- 
sugar to barter with the Indians around the trading-house 
for birds and venison. 

But there are no Indians there ; there are only women,” 
objected Miss McGregor. 

‘‘ Bless your heart ! don’t you believe it ; plenty of ’em. 
I got Mr. Glode, as they call him, to teach me a few words 
of their gibberish, and, after all, to be sure, I must find out 
that my Corbin, who’s been up in the country before, knew 
ever so many words. So I needn’t have broke my jaws 
over their way-skap-rah* and their tah-nee-zhoo-rah.f 
Such a lingo I” . 

“ It is unlike English, to be sure, but it does not sound 
harsh when it is spoken by the natives themselves,” said 
Miss McGregor, always a little tenacious upon the subject 
of her people. 

“ Well, I suppose a body can get used to ’most anything,” 
assented Mrs. Smart, politely. I did at school, I re- 
member, to the dog-Latin the girls used to talk — though I 
can’t say it ever sounded like anything but dog-LatiUj after 
all.” 

Miss McGregor made no further efforts to bespeak indul- 
gence for the Ho-tshung-rah dialect, but, breakfast being 
over, she summoned her sister and M. Tremblay to ac- 
company her to the landing-place, ostensibly to look at the 
state of the arms and ammunition, which still lay under 
embargo, but in reality to secure a place as far as possible 
from sight or sound of what was going forward on the 
plain. 

‘/And you won’t forget,” cried their hostess, “that, as 
there’s such great doings coming off about two or three 


* Bread, or other farinaoeous food. 


t Sugar. 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


329 


o’clock, we’re only going to take a nice little lunch about 
noon, and not have dinner till it’s all over. The colonel is 
having his big marquee all fixed up as nice as you please, 
for us to sit in and have a good sight of everything.” 

The news of this arrangement was anything but pleasing 
to Miss McGregor. “I cannot understand,” she said, 
“ why there should be such a parade made upon the occa- 
sion. Surely two persons accused of crime might be de- 
livered into the hands of justice, or what passes for such, 
without a spectacle being furnished to all the world. It is 
not such a triumph to the. Government to get possession 
of the supposed culprits, that there should be a grand mili- 
tary fete in honor of the occasion.” 

And to think of the poor creatures themselves I” said 
Madeleine. “ Brought forward to be gazed on ; knowing 
all the time that everybody is thinking of them with hofror ; 
nobody remembering that they perhaps fancied they were 
performing a meritorious action.” 

“No, no,” said her sister, with earnest emphasis, “they 
never thought that They knew they were wrong, and 
therefore they wickedly tried to entice another to accom- 
pany them. They drew Mm into the snare that he might 
share the odium and the punishment.” 

Madeleine and the bourgeois looked at her with silent 
amazement ; neither had the slightest idea of the cause of 
her vehemence. M. Tremblay, whose feelings, both as a 
citizen and a Frenchman, were all alive upon the subject 
of the murders, took up the word : — 

“Dat jes’ so as Miss Monique say. He know great 
deal better, dis Oiseau Rouge. He one ver’ smart Indian — 
know ’most so much as one white man. He no fool, he. 
Yes, he go coax dese oder two poor fellow ; Miss Monique, 
she see t’rough him. He say. You come wid me, and we 
get some scalp, and meb-be heap oder good tings. And 
28 * 


330 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


den, ven he no can kill de woman Gagnier, ’cause she so 
brave and run ’way from him, den he scalp off de top of de 
head to dat poor leet’ child, vot didn’t die at all I So now 
I tink jes’ as Miss Monique say. He be dat bad one dat 
do all de mischief ; and best ting to shut him up in jail till 
he stop doing mischief ; and wen he not will stop, hang him 
wid one rope to one tree, den see if he do so nex’ time.” 

Experience had taught Miss McGregor that any attempt 
to set M. Tremblay right would only involve a subject 
in more hopeless entanglement ; she therefore cut short 
Madeleine’s parting civilities, and hurried her companions 
forward down the steep, rough path to the spot where the 
boats had lain moored. 

Yet, quietly as the sisters had slipped away from the 
sutler’s tent, there were watchful eyes taking account of 
their movements ; and hardly had they gained the level of 
the river-bank, when a bevy of young officers, and Mr. 
Ewing along with them, appeared, to disconcert the plans 
the elder sister had been forming. If she could but have 
sought behind the canvas curtains of her own little boat a 
refuge from every sight and sound pertaining to the occa- 
sion which so occupied and excited the world around her I 
Such had been Monica’s aim ; but to accomplish it, she now 
saw, would be impossible. 

Reflection came to her aid, soon reconciling her to what 
was inevitable. She remembered her promise to the com- 
manding officer, to act as his interpreter should occasion 
require — a promise she had hoped not to be called upon to 
falfil ; but now it was possible her services might be of 
serious importance in making explanations, and securing 
some degree of leniency to the accused. Bad and wicked 
as Wee-kau and his companion were, they were neverthe- 
less her people— she had a duty to perform in their behalf. 
She must secure for them all the forbearance and kindness 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


331 


that earnest representations, or even supplications, could 
obtain. 

It would not do to hide herself away. She must show 
Colonel Bentley that she was awaiting his call for her 
assistance, and she must be upon the spot when the mis- 
guided natives were brought before the authorities, to be 
placed in custody preparatory to being further dealt with. 
Resolved to put from her all thoughts of self-indulgence, 
she responded with as much cordiality as she could com- 
mand to the congratulations of the young gentlemen, and 
their inquiries whether she was quite recovered— Whether 
she thought' there was any danger of another attack — 
whether she would allow “ little pestle and mortar’’ (it was 
thus that the disrespectful Gaylord characterized the citi- 
zen-surgeOn of the command) to make a prescription for 
her. 

“ I let him put up a couple of doses for me,” said that 
young officer, “ when we were down off the Yellow Thun- 
der Banks, just to show him that he stood on a military 
footing, you understand; and I assure you ' that by the 
time I had caiTied them in my pocket for thit'ty-six hours 
or so, I was ready to be taken off the sick-report entirely.” 


CHAPTER XLV. 

“Time and the hour runs through the roughest day”— 
an aphorism of which Miss McGregor proved the truth 
when the p?’otracted, weary forenoon at length came to an 
end. 

She had endeavored to find some diversion ffiom her 
anxious thoughts in watching her sister’s countenance and 


332 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Btriving to divine how the coming solemnities affected her. 
Had she any solicitude in regard to the Red Bird, her 
mother’s nephew, the young chief with whom, as a child, 
she had been an especial favorite ? She had spoken with 
tenderness of their sufferings — did she know or suspect 
who were really to be the persons surrendered ?. Would 
she be likely to mention it if she had by chance heard that 
the Red Bird, the principal one among the accused, had 
made his escape to some distant tribe ? 

Monica could not tell. She scrutinized her sisterfs coun- 
tenance — it betokened interest in the movements of one 
person only. The bourgeois, after busying himself for 
awhile about the boats, which still lay under the guard of 
“notr’ excellent Coquillard,” had loosened a little pirogue 
from its moorings, and was now paddling away in the 
direction of the trading-house. 

“ I confess, I never look upon that young fellow’s phy- 
sique without a feeling of envy,” said Captain Lytle, spe- 
ciously. 

‘‘ You have less reason than most of us,” said Hamilton, 
with a grim smile, as he glanced at his own slender, un- 
pliant limbs. 

The captain lifted his shako courteously ; he was not 
sorry to have attention called to his personal merits, par- 
ticularly as he was again venturing some slight assiduities 
towards Miss McGregor, in whose good graces he was 
desirous of reinstating himself. Her favor was important 
at least to his self-complacence, for he had not escaped a 
good deal of raillery from the mischievous Gaylord and the 
jolly Captain Lovel upon what they rather coarsely. termed 
the “ snubbing’’ that he had received at Lake Puckaway. 

“ I say, Lytle, was that mitten of smoked deer-skin that 
I saw you trying to hustle away info your pocket the other 
morning ?” had been the cruel inquiry of the elder officer; 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


833 


and, because he was the elder, Captain Lytle could only 
scowl as he replied, — 

“ Miss McGregor is a young lady of such exalted worth 
and dignity that I never think of making a joke upon aught 
touching herself or her family relationships” — a reproof 
which Gaylord, who originated the criticism, congratulated 
himself upon not having drawn upon his own head, and 
which Captain Lovel affected to turn off with a whistle. 

Miss McGregor’s manner towards Captain Lytle was 
this morning marked by all its former graciousness, and 
the gallant captain was in a state of semi-beatitude. He 
would have been mortified could he have divined that so 
far from having, as he imagined, resolved to lay aside her 
pique, she was not, in truth, thinking of him at all,- — ^that 
she was only striving to occupy her mind with some topic 
that would drive away another and too agitating a one. 

She started and trembled in spite of herself when the 
first tap of the drum announced the hour agreed upon with 
Mrs. Smart as that in wh4b the whole party should repair 
to their rendezvous for their noontide refection. 

The spot for this had, at the suggestion of Colonel 
Bentley, been transferred from the sutler’s tent to his own 
spacious marquee, and thither the ladies, with their attend- 
ants, all keeping step to the cheerful strains of the “Roast 
Beef,” were marshalled by their hospitable little hostess, 
and cordially invited to partake of the good cheer she had 
prepared for them. 

The mat which did duty for a table, and over which 
was spread a fair damask table-cloth, was covered with an 
abundance of substantial viands, as well as with all the 
varied delicacies which the sutler’s well-chosen stores af- 
forded. But in vain did Monica endeavor to divert atten- 
tion and observation from herself by seeming to partake of 
them. In vain did she force herself to accept and place 


334 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


between her lips a small portion of something, she scarcely 
knew what, that somebody, she scarcely could tell who, 
offered her. The first morsel seemed to choke her; she 
could not attempt a second. 

Captain Lytle was watching her, and he solicitously 
placed a glass of wine-and-water beside her plate. She 
bowed in recognition of his kindness, but did no more than 
taste it. 

Are you absolutely bent on fasting all this- long and 
exciting day he whispered, in an accent of as much ten- 
derness as he dared assume. 

“ Fasting? Oh, no,” said Monica, rousing herself. I 
shall make myself amends by-and-by, when all things re- 
turn to their usual tranquil routine. Perhaps it is wisest 
for me to be a little abstinent to-day, and keep out of the 
hands of the doctor, with whom Mr. Gaylord has been 
threatening me.” 

This was uttered with- such perfect calmness that one 
might have believed no breeze had ever ruffled the placid 
current of her feelings. . , . 

The bourgeois had by this time returned, and, declining 
Mrs. Smart’s offered hospitality, stood at a little distance, 
conversing with Lapierre, who had come, at the instance of 
the commanding officer, to interpret what should be said 
on both sides during the momentous interview about to 
take place. 

A bevy of his half-breed relatives of both sexes had alsd 
been attracted by the prospect of a spectacle, and Were con- 
gregated just so near the marquee as to obtain a favorable 
view of its equipments and occupants. 

The metif is by no means destitute of curiosity; By 
right of inheritance he is, in fact, entitled to a predominat- 
ing share of that trait. The Indian character in this respect 
is quite misunderstood, there being, in faet, no 'people \Viio 


MARK LOGAN. THE BOURGEOIS. 


335 


are fonder of investigating and getting at the bottom of a 
subject than they. The restraints of good breeding, as 
they understand it, are often mistaken by a superficial' 
observer for apathy. 

When the company in the marquee had feasted to their 
heart’s content, the word of command was given by the 
bustling little landlady, and forthwith, by the aid of 
Frenchmen and soldiers, the table and all its appurtenances 
disappeared with a celerity that would have been incom- 
prehensible to one not accustomed to frontier journeyings. 

Preparations appropriate to the expected ceremonies 
were immediately on foot. The Indian allies were placed 
on the outer verge of the scene, seated upon the ground, 
and partly inclosing the space in which the expected sur- 
render was to take place. 

The soldiers of the command were drawn up on the left 
of the centre, in which stood the commanding officer, while 
those of lesser rank, and the principal gentlemen who had 
accompanied the expedition, were stationed a little in the 
rear. It seemed to be Colonel Bentley’s policy to make 
the whole spectacle as imposing as possible. 

The ladies, with M. Tremblay, Ewing, Logan, and such 
others as had no title to a more conspicuous position, re- 
mained in front of the colonel’s marquee, which was on the 
right of the ground. Not far from this spot was placed 
the military band, — with what object neither Monica nor 
Madeleine, who were familiar with the customs of the 
natives and knew that they would be provided with their 
own music, could conjecture. 

All the arrangements had, of course, been preconcerted, 
and they were carried out with that quiet military pre- 
cision which causes intricate movements to seem the result 
of one voluntary impulse. 

The two sisters watched with interest all the proceedings, 


336 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


the elder scanning, almost breathlessly, each arrangement, 
and striving to draw from it some augury of the future in- 
tentions of those in whose hands were the issues of weal 
or woe, even, it might be, of life or death. Her quick eye 
had detected Moa-way at a distance, stationed with ap- 
parent unconcern among the Menomonees, who, with the 
Waubanakees, sat like dusky statues, silent and motionless. 

While speculating whence he had come and wherefore 
he was there, Miss McGregor was startled by hearing an 
exclamation in French near her, — 

“ There they come 1 See their silver-works glittering in 
the sun 1 And look I the flags that they have fastened to 
their lances. Now they are filing out of the woods, and 
descending the hill I” 

The voice was from a group of motive women who had 
pressed quite near where the young ladies stood. 

Monica turned her eyes towards the road that, leading 
across the Portage from the Wisconsin, approached the 
western front of the encampment. It was by this road that 
th^ Winnebago chiefs, with their accused brethren, were 
expected to arrive, two hours after the sun should have 
reached the meridian. 

Yes, there they were I A glittering procession on foot, 
with a mixed crowd of both sexes following in the rear. 

Gaze as intently as she might, it was impossible for 
Monica to recognize with certainty even the foremost indi- 
vidual of the train. A mist was before her eyes — a drum- 
ming sound in her ears. She thought her senses were be- 
coming paralyzed. Others in her immediate neighborhood 
were at no loss. The explanations of Madame Lapierre, 
in her accustomed dialect, enlightened the curious and in- 
quisitive who stood near. 

“ The one in advance is Naw-kaw, or Kar-ray-mau-nee, 
as they call him. Of course he takes the lead — he is the 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS, 


33T 


principal chief of the Puans, you know. How straight and 
tall he is I And how he walks like a young man full of 
strength and vigor 1 Yet he is, they say, almost a hundred 
years old.” 

“Naw-kaw — Le Bois — he may well be named, for he 
looks like one of the giant trees of the forest.” 

“ But those who are coming next, dressed in white, — 
who are they?” asked one, less au /aiY than the first 
speaker. 

“ Oh, those are the persons who are about to give them- 
selves up. They put on white as a token they are inno- 
cent ; that is to say, that they had no evil intentions.” 

“ Ah I mon Dieu I but people don’t kill and scalp with 
good intentions, par exemple I” 

“ Hist I listen I” exclaimed Madame Lapierre ; “hearken 
to the music.” 

There was a sudden hush, and then clear above drum 
and shee-shee-quois,* by which it was accompanied, rose 
a wild, dismal wail, prolonged into a chaunt, which, vi- 
brating through the soft, sunny air, seemed in a moment 
to turn all light and cheerfulness to gloom. 

“ What is that? Whose voice is it?” asked Madeleine, 
awe-struck. 

“ It is Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, the Red Bird, singing his 
death-song N 

The sudden start of Monica, and the look of speechlOss 
horror which she turned upon her, for a moment set 
Madeleine’s senses whirling. She could scarcely com- 
mand herself sufficiently to throw her arms around her 
sister to keep her from falling. Fortunately there was a 
camp-stool near, upon which she drew her, and, placing her- 


* The Indian rattle. 

29 


338 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


self so as to screen her from observation, she beckoned the 
bourgeois and asked him to bring her a glass of water. 

“ Mj sister feels overcome — she is not strong,” she stam- 
mered. Mrs. Hale’s b(5ttle of camphor, without which she 
seldom stirred, was at once proffered. 

“ Lean against me, dear,” said Madeleine, her frame 
trembling and her eyes full of tears. She took the glass 
of water which Logan brought and put it to her sister’s 
lips, but Monica rejected it with a wave of the hand, setting 
her teeth firmly to repress all outward sign of emotion, 
though she could not control the shiver that convulsed her 
frame. 

“ Did you not. know that the Red Bird was to surrender 
himself?” Monica shook her head slowly. She could not 
utter the ‘‘ No, ah 1 no,” which her gesture implied. 

By this time the procession had arrived at the opposite 
bank of the river whither the barges of the officers had been 
sent with an escort to ferry the principal personages across. 
Suddenly, from the midst of the latter, as they stood grouped 
upon the shore, there arose a mournful, long-drawn, un- 
earthly yell — a cry, once heard, never to be forgotten — a 
sound to curdle one’s very blood. 

At its sound each Menomonee and Waubanakee sprang 
to his fCet and instinctively clutched his weapon. The cry 
was a second time repeated. 

“ The scalp- whoop I Two of them !” exclaimed Ewing. 

“ Two scalps ? Surely they are not bringing their terrible 
trophies into our midst,” said Logan. 

“ Two scalps to be given, not taken,” explained Madame 
Glode. “ Saint Bapteme I The poor Oiseau Rouge and 
Soleil know their doom, and tell us they are prepared for it.” 

“And only two,” remarked another, in a complaining 
accent. “ To think of the third running off like a coward 
and saving his scalp I Le miserable 1” 


MARK LOOANy THE BOURGEOIS. 


339 


CHAPTER XLYL 

All eyes were now turned to the brow of the hill, in 
anxious expectation of what was to follow. 

There was 'a stir and a murmur as the procession, which 
had been broken in being ferried across the stream, and 
again formed to ascend the hill, at length emerged upon 
the plain. 

The stalwart form of old Kar-ray-mau-nee, in the full 
extent of savage holiday costume, and with face elaborately 
painted, led the way. He bore in his hand the United 
States flag,‘thus signifying his recognition of the authority 
to which he and his companions were paying such a heart- 
rending tribute of obedience. Behind him walked the 
accused, again ehauntdng their death-song, to which the tap 
of the Indian drum kept time and added a mournful effect. 
The crowd which followed, consisting of chiefs and braves, 
remained in the background with a few women, silent 
spectators of the proceedings. 

The magnificent Red Bird” has been described by one 
biographer as “perfect in form, face, and gesture.” An- 
other witness of these scenes, from whose manuscript 
journal many particultirs have been drawn, thus records 
his testimony: — 

“ Of all men upon whom my eyes have ever rested, the 
jnost splendid in beauty, the most noble and graceful in 
movement, was the Red Bird of the Winnebagoes. Wee- 
kau looked the wretch that he vras, but I could never for 
a moment admit the idea that Wau-nig-sootsh-kah was, 
intentionally, guilty of anything more heinous than being 
found in bad company.” 


340 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS, 


Wee-kau, with his dogged, downcast countenance, and 
wrapped in his blanket, which had not even the merit of 
cleanliness, engaged less sympathy than his coming fate 
might seem to demand. It w-as upon the beautiful young 
chief that every eye was riveted. 

His dress and equipments had been chosen with strict 
attention to the emblematic significance with which his 
people express their sentiments or describe their past 
exploits. 

His Sioux dress,* a shirt and leggings of delicate white 
deer-skin, betokening the purity of innocence, was orna- 
mented with porcupine-quills, and with beads and feathers 
of the color of the sky where dwells the Great Spirit, and 
to which the wearer was, to all appearance, hastening.f 

His gorget of scarlet cloth, and the tufts of horse-hair 
dyed the same color, with which various parts of his dress 
were ornamented, represented the plumage of the oriole, 
from which he derived his name ; the eagle’s feathers de- 
pending from his shoulders and from the red stem of his 
war-pipe denoted that he had met the enemy and brought 
back a corresponding number of scalps ; while a cord looped 
at his belt indicated that his prowess had at times been 
tempered with mercy, and that he had brought home cap- 
tive those whom he had not cared to slay. Slips of wood, 
placed in the form of a pair of compasses upon his breast, 
proclaimed the number of gunshot-wounds he had received 
in the achievement of his exploits. 


^ The Sioux have ever been linked in the closest amity with the Win- 
nebagoes, and it was customary with the former, who were peculiarly 
skilled in the arts of the toilet, to present a holiday suit to a friend or 
favorite, 

t The Winnebagqes always “look aloft” while uttering their prayers 
or incantations or performing their sacrifices — thus recognizing that the 
dwelling of the Great Spirit is beyond the clouds. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


341 


His necklace of panther^s claws, and the heavy and 
abundant strands of wampum, the price of the furs and 
robes which had rewarded his winter hunts, attested his 
triumphs in the chase.' He was without arms: even the 
ornamented knife-scabbard, usually hanging from his neck, 
had been laid aside. 

Eyery portion of his dress fitted closely to his symmet- 
rical form, save a light, fringed blanket of white deer-skin, 
which, thrown back from his shoulders, hung with a care- 
less grace like the cloak of a Spanish hidalgo. His waist 
was girded with a variegated sash, supporting his pouch 
of the entire skin of a young otter, richly embroidered with 
quills and beads. 

Monica’s agitation had wellnigh got the better of her 
self-command, as she observed that a spreading white 
eagle’s feather laid across his breast was resting against 
the broad scarlet ribbon she had sent him as a token by 
the hand of Le Bras, Pique. 

She could not tell whether he recognized her, half 
Bcreeued from view as she sat; with a woman’s devotion, 
she hoped he did not. She would have had no additional 
burden laid upoq him ; yet the sudden ceasing of his death- 
song almost assured her that she had not escaped his notice. 
He looked straight before him, however, after the first 
rapid glance around, with all the apparent stoicism of his 
people, until the military band struck up, as if in. response 
to his strain, the plaintive, dirge-like notes of Pleyel’s Ger- 
man Hymn. Then the face of the lied Bird grew more 
sombre, as did those of the whole assembled multitude — 
veteran officer and hArdy soldier alike testifying their sym- 
pathy by tears which would not be controlled. 

3^arrray-raau-nee and the two prisoners, for such they 
mustuow be considered, approached with proud and stately 
step till theyTaced the commanding officer, who, familiar 
29 * 


342 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


with their customs, motioned them to seat themselves and 
smoke. 

The regal elegance of Red Bird’s whole person, the grace 
of his motions, his noble bearing under circumstances so 
trying, were the theme of comment among the more 
thoughtless of the beholders; but the greater number, 
spell-bound, regarded in solemn silence a spectacle so un- 
accustomed and so touching. 

Madeleine, divided between solicitude for her sister and 
sympathy with the scene before her, was almost uncon- 
scious that the bourgeois, observant of her pallid look and 
tearful eye, had drawn her arm within his own, as a sup- 
port, and was holding an umbrella to shield her and her 
sister from the sun. 

After smoking their kihnikinnick for a time, the aged 
chief and his two companions again rose to their feet, each 
with bis long-stemmed pipe in his left hand, and Wau-nig- 
sootsh-kah grasping in his right the white flag, the emblem 
of innocence. 

Rar-ray-mau-nee was the first to address the commanding 
officer — his “ Father” for the time being. 

His speech was to this effect: “ That the chiefs had 
been required to bring in those of their people who had 
been accused of murder. That they had no power except 
over two, the third having gone away. That these two 
had voluntarily surrendered themselves, to save their 
brethren from harm and their country from devastation. 
They had come here to give themselves up; and they 
hoped their white friends would accept the horses they 
offered (about twenty in number), in compensation for the 
lives that had been taken.’? 

The latter proposition was strictly in accordance with 
Indian usage. These sons of the forest must be pardoned 
for deeming it possible that, with the white man, tears .for 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


343 


a bereavement might be wiped away by a goodly array of 
presents. 

A few sentences in reply from the commanding officer, 
commending the action of the accused in surrendering 
themselves for trial, and assuring them of kind treatment 
and equitable dealing on the part of the Government, fol- 
lowed. 

After a short pause, the Red Bird advanced a pace or 
two. Looking fixedly at Colonel Bentley for a moment, 
then throwing a glance round on the assembled multitude, 
he said, — 

“ I am ready. Do not put me in irons. It is only a 
coward who needs to be fettered, for it is only a coward 
who runs away. I am a man — let me be free. I have 
given my life — it is gone — thus !” He stooped and gath- 
ered some particles of the dust at his feet, then, placing 
the ends of his gathered fingers against his thumb, he 
threw them abroad into the air with that peculiar gesture 
which is, among his people, the expression of utter con- 
tempt.* 

“ It is gone I” looking at the dust as it floated a moment 
in the air. “ I would not take it back 

With one more emphatic gesture of scorn, he then marched 
forward, fronting the commanding officer breast to breast, 
and looking him fearlessly in the eye. 

Wee-kau, with sordid, wolfish visage and stealthy, 
treacherous step, followed, but attempted no word of ad- 
dress or supplication. His whole appearance inspired a 
feeling of shuddering repulsion in the beholders, for the 
story was now well known of his having first scalped the 


♦ No greater icsult can be offered to an Indian than the snapping of 
the fingers towards them in the manner described, save only the oppro- 
brious epithet ‘‘ Dog !” 


344 


MARK LOG AM, THE BOURGEOIS, 


infant of Madame Gagnier and then made an ineffectual 
attempt to behead it. 

The platoons of soldiers were wheeled forward so as to 
form a lane, through which the prisoners, with the com- 
manding officer at their head, walked in the direction of 
the tent prepared for the former, where they were to be 
well guarded till they could be transferred to their place 
of destination. 

The termination of the ceremonies was the signal for 
a general rally of the officers around Colonel Bentley’s 
marquee. 

Madeleine did all in her power to avert attention from 
her sister, who had, throughout, sat with stony gaze, too 
much stunned to fully realize the force of the blow which 
had fallen upon her. 

“ Please make no remark to her, and, if possible, prevent 
others from doing so,” said the young girl to Ewing. “ You 
are aware that the Red Bird is our relative. I have seldom 
seen him since my childhood, but Monica and he were 
formerly on terras of intimate friendship.” 

It was at a venture that Madeleine hazarded this remark, 
for she had never heard of the blight upon her sister’s early 
life. She only saw that she was suffering intensely, and 
believed that the distress of such a fate being the allotment 
of one so gifted, one so well fitted to uphold the honor and 
dignity of her oppressed people, was the bitter trouble that 
was overwhelming her. 

To Save her from question or comment, Madeleine felt, 
would now be the most valued kindness. 

It was with a feeling of relief that she observed the 
chiefs and braves approaching, and addressing to her sister 
earnest salutations in their guttural, m any-syllabled ver- 
nacular. She did not pause to inquire why their greetings 
to herself were less demonstrative — why a simple shake 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


345 


of the hand and a calm “ Bon-jour, P’hee-ween-kah,”* were 
all that any one seemed inclined to bestow. 

It was enough for her to observe that Monica roused 
herself from the apathy to which she had yielded, and 
that she now discoursed with her native friends in the 
loWy silvery tones which made even their uncouth dialect 
musical. 

Presently the most prominent of the chiefs were called 
away to receive the rations and presents with which the 
commanding officer thought it politic to mark his appro- 
bation of their share in the transactions which had taken 
place. Miss McGregor’s lip curled with scorn as she wit- 
nessed their obedience to the summons. 

“ And they will accept the price of his blood I’’ she said, 
bitterly, to herself. “ Was it with this intention that they 
counselled him to this surrender? Oh, faithless, selfish, 
despicable I Had they been animated by hearts like that 
of one weak woman, they would have died a thousand 
deaths sooner than sacrifice that noble life I” 

Her look was not lost upon Madame Lapierre. She 
understood it, and, tenacious for her husband’s people, 
hastened to make excuses : — 

Ah I it is a pity^it is very grievous ; but what would 
you have ? The poor savages have^been hiding away, or 
else roaming about so long, in dread of the soldiers, who 
might be upon us at any moment, that their women and 
little children would starve if their Great Father did not 
take compassion on them and supply them with food. The 
excellent Mpnsieur le Collo-nell 1” 

But Monica was not appeased. What to her was the 
well-being of all the women and children of the Winnebago 
tribe, compared with the life and liberty of Wau nig-sootsh- 


* Good-day, pretty little one. 


346 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


kah ? The gloom of her thoughts was not lessened as she 
overheard a part of a dialogue near her. 

“ I was glad to hear that Colonel Bentley had promised 
the prisoners they should not be put in irons,?’ said Mr. 
Ewing. 

“Yes, the, colonel could make that engagement as far 
as he is himself concerned,” replied Captain Lovel ; “but 
wait till you hear from old White Beaver. He may sing 
a different song.” 

“ Old White Beaver I Who is he ?” 

“ General Atkinson, who is now on his way up the Wis- 
consin. The poor fellows give him this name because, as 
they say, he has dammed up their only way of escape from 
our pursuit.” 

“ Do you imagine he will be less lenient than Colonel 
Bentley to the prisoners ?” asked Ewing. 

“ I rather fancy so. It may depend somewhat upon 
whether he detects any disposition on the part of their 
friends to communicate with them and contrive plans for 
their escape.” 

This hint was not lost on Miss McGregor. She had 
quite determined to supplicate the commanding officer for 
leave to visit the Red Bird in his Confinement; she longed 
to soothe and comfort him with hopes of what she might 
be able to accomplish before his day of trial should arrive ; 
but she now understood that true kindness forbade any 
steps towards obtaining an interview until, the journey to 
the Prairie having been accomplished, the course of events 
should show what could wisely be undertaken in behalf of 
the unhappy Wau-nig-sootsh-kah. 




t 


PART II. 



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MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

“And now, having caged our bird, which, we must own, 
boasts a greater resemblance to the Royal Eagle than to 
the little warbler whose name he bears, what is to be our 
next move 

The querist was Lieutenant Stafford, who, with his chief, 
had sauntered towards the western verge of the parade- 
ground, and now stood looking down upon the ladies’ boat 
as it lay in the narrow, crooked stream, waiting to take up 
its march across the portage, to the Wisconsin. 

A numerous force of engages was employed in raising 
the little craft, and, by the aid of sundry couples of stout 
oxen, dragging it from its bed, preparatory to mounting it 
on wheels for its transit. 

Trooping away in the distance over the Portage road 
was the company of Winiiebagoes who had assisted at the 
recent ceremony— the men marching stately at their leisure, 
or pacing on their jerky little ponies, the women bending 
under the weight of the provisions and other benefactions 
bestowed by- the commanding officer. 

A few squaws and papooses from the lodges scattered 
here and there over the low ground were contemplating, 
with longing eyes, a heap of buHn which lay upon the 
grass, and over which old Michaud kept a watchful eye 

30 ( 349 ) 


350 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


while giving the word of command, whooping, 
ing, and “ souleve-W^An^ with the full force of his lungs, 
by way of putting life and mettle into the muscles of all 
concerned. 

“ Our next move ? ^ Of course, to deliver our prisoners 
over to the merciful arm of the law ; in other words, clap 
them in jail,” was the nonchalant reply of Captain Lytle. 

“What a pity! — for the Red Bird, at least,” said the 
younger officer. “ I gather from the interpreter that there 
are doubts as to his having actually participated in the 
murders. It is to be hoped he will be granted a speedy 
trial ; for imprisonment is a punishment far worse than 
death, to one of his nature and habits. How much better 
to have called a court-martial and tried them here at once, 
that their fate might be settled and they spared the tortures 
of uncertainty I” 

“ You forget the sacred majesty of the law which has to 
be vindicated,” said Lytle, with mock gravity. 

“And should not we have been vindicators of the law ?” 
asked Stafford. 

“ Our own trade,” replied the captain, “ being to take 
the lives of our enemies, we might be in danger of wink- 
ing at the exploits of other warriors when on their path.” 

“ Not if they should be proved guilty of slaughtering the 
innocent!” 

“ Uncle Sam would not trust us. Besides, the present 
happens to be a time when something very prompt and 
business-like has got to be done. A good many miserable 
white devils have escaped deserved punishment of late; 
of course, the public good demands that the most should 
be made of a prey that understands nothing about chicanery, 
bribery, and all that sort of thing, but can submit quietly 
to their sentence, as good criminals should. I rather think 
our neighbors down below will have to hang L’Oiseau 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


361 


Rouge and his dirty friend, if only to show what officials 
can do, when they have no special reason for not doing.” 

Stafford, whose feelings were strongly enlisted in behalf 
of the young chief, was not pleased at the light, bantering 
tone in which the elder officer spoke. He changed the 
subject a little, by asking, — 

Are they to be taken to the Bay 

“ I fancy not. It will naturally be considered the best 
policy to try them on the spot where the deeds were com- 
mitted — where witnesses are to be found who can testify 
against them, and where there will be no trouble in em- 
paneling a jury who will be of one mind in the matter of a 
verdict.” 

“ Doubtless public opinion is greatly inflamed against 
the Red Bird. Near the scene of action it will perhaps 
even be difficult to find an advocate who will labor strenu- 
ously for his acquittal.” 

“ Very likely. I don’t suppose there are many who will 
concern themselves about the fate of a couple of Neechees 
more or less. There are plenty of them, in my opinion, 
who had better begot rid of, if a pretext is only furnished.” 

“ Would you wish to see them exterminated?” said the 
young officer, turning on his companion a look of indig- 
nant surprise. 

“ Why, that is putting it rather strong,” replied the 
other; “ but I confess I have not greatly wondered at our 
fellow-citizens in Kentucky who vote for Colonel Dick 
Johnson on the ground of his being the best Indian-killer 
in the United States.” 

“ It may do for the people of Kentucky and Ohio to re- 
member their own wrongs and forget those of the former 
proprietors of all that beautiful domain. Those who are 
differently situated should recall the oppression and perse- 
cution which a helpless people has had to suffer at the 


862 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


hands of the whites. In my opinion, our Government has 
a great deal to answer for ’’ 

“ You seem to feel considerably more upon the subject,” 
interrupted Captain Lytle, sarcastically, “ than pretty little 
Miss McGregor, who is their cousin.” 

“ May-be so,” quietly remarked Stafford ; “ but not more 
than her sister. How beautiful she looked this afternoon 
as she sat gazing on that magnificent fellow, her rapt 
soul sitting in her eyes, utterly lost to all outward things I 
I could not help wishing that some poet or sculptor could 
have caught her expression and attitude.” 

“ Pshaw I” exclaimed Captain Lytle, veiling under an 
expression of contempt his real annoyance ; for he too had 
been struck with the devotion of Miss McGregor’s gaze, 
and with her look of despairing woe, which could hardly 
be misinterpreted. 

The young lieutenant went on, — 

“ Wau-nig-sootsh-kah may comfort himself with the cer- 
tainty that there is one who will leave no stone unturned 
to secure his release.” 

‘‘ The release or the condemnation of this Puan,” said 
the captain, with a grimace of disgust, ‘'can be a matter 
of no consequence to the young lady, about whom it strikes 
me you are speculating rather freely, except so far as his 
fate appeals to her benevolent sympathies. If you have 
amused yourself with fancying any other sentiment con- 
nected with the compassionate interest she manifested in a 
painted, bedizened aboriginal who has got himself into a 
tolerably uncomfortable position, I must say, you pay an 
indifferent compliment to her delicacy or her good sense.” 

“My estimate of the good sense, or, rather,- the good 
heart, of the young lady,” replied Stafford, calmly, “ was 
not based alone upon what I witnessed this afternbon, but 
also upon Miss Madeleine’s remark in explanation of the 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


353 


agitation which, at one time, so nearly overcame her sister 
— that the Red Bird was a relative for whom she had long 
entertained a tender friendship.” 

Every word of the lieutenant was gall and wormwood 
to the irate captain. Had the inquiry been again addressed 
to him, “Would you wish to see them exterminated?” 
he would have felt inclined to answer, “ With all my 
heart — every mother’s son of them !” 

It would be giving Stafford the advantage, however, to 
let him perceive that his words had power to sting. The 
captain controlled his wrath, and turned to another phase 
of the same subject: — 

“ Speaking of the young ladies, we may as well ascer- 
tain if they are going over to the trading-house to remain 
till all things are ready for them to take boat again on the 
Wisconsin. I think I heard Ewing say that was the plan ; 
and I see they have got their tent down and most of their 
effects carried already to the landing below, to be ferried 
across. As for the friendship between Miss McGregor 
and this young chief,” he said, returning to the subject, 
“ that is perfectly natural. Brought up as they have been 
to regard each other as relations, his probable fate must be 
a source of deep pain to her. Any liking of a more tender 
character is not a supposable possibility — as little so as 
that her pretty sister should take a fancy to that young 
engage, bourgeois, boss, or whatever his title is. He seems 
to be as much of a paragon in his way as the Winnebago 
in his.” 

Having thus, as he flattered himself, paid his subaltern 
in his own coin, the captain took up his line of march 
towards the spot where the tent of the young ladies had 
stood, but where now remained only a few packs, kettles, 
and the usual debris which mark a deserted camp. 

“ Ah I Miss Monique have just say to me dat we go not 
30 * 


354 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


away to Lapierre till we have say good-by to Monsieur 
le Capitaine,” was the salutation of M. Tremblay; and the 
suggestion that he had been thus remembered made the 
gallant captain all smiles and devotion. Not that he was 
quite at his ease. His own observation would, without 
the aid of Stafford’s comments, have made him a little 
solicitous as to the nature of the fair Monica’s regard for 
the young chief. Interest in the misfortunes of one who 
possesses the additional recommendations of heroism, 
grace, and beauty is, to say the least, a dangerous senti- 
ment ; there is no saying at what moment benevolence 
may take the wings of romance and soar aloft, a full-fledged 
passion. 

Captain Lytle did not mean to trust to the chance of any 
such metamorphosis. He congratulated himself on having 
already received from Colonel Bentley an invitation to con- 
tinue as volunteer aide until the termination of the expe- 
dition. Miss McGregor might, and doubtless would, plan 
to obtain an interview with her cousin. It should be his 
care that no such interview should be granted her ; andj the 
prisoners once placed under the charge of General Atkinson, 
let those play at romance who could find a chance to do 
so. That Miss McGregor had entertained the most favor- 
able sentiments towards himself at one time he felt sure. 
If the personal danger of friends of earlier date had occu- 
pied her thoughts of late to the exclusion of other consider- 
ations, it should be his business to fan anew the flame 
which, for a short season, had slumbered. He could not 
yield the position he had of late.oceupied ; on the contrary, 
he would now set about winning her in earnest. With 
intentions and plans of action thus fully settled. Captain 
Lytle addressed Miss McGregor with an air of sympa- 
thizing interest : — 

'‘Will you allow me to escort you to the boat which is, 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 355 

I understand, to take you over presently to the trading- 
house 

Monica bowed. She was struck by the respectful ten- 
derness of his tone. She had been casting about for some 
means of gaining permission from the commanding officer 
to speak at least a few words of encouragement and conso- 
lation to Wau-nig-sontsh-kah ; Captain Lytle would interest 
himself to gratify her wishes ; she had only to ask him. 

Before she could frame the words in terms which would 
awake no suspicion of her motives, Lieutenant Stafford 
began, — 

“ It is not pleasant for friends — acquaintances I ought, 
perhaps, rather to say — to feel that they must say farewell ; 

it may be, farewell forever 

The cheerful voice of the captain interrupted him : — 

“ 1 do not make myself unhappy by forestalling the 
melancholy hour, which, I am happy to know, is not imme- 
diate. The colonel having graciously continued me upon 
his staff until his return to head-quarters, I have liberty, for 
the time being, to offer my services to the ladies in any 
way I can be useful to them.” 

A sudden light flashed into the eyes of Miss McGregor. 
The captain perceived and misinterpreted it, as did Made- 
leine. The gentleman, however, gave no sign, but went on 
with what he was saying : — 

“We are to set forward immediately. Lapierre has 
boats over in the Wisconsin, which he has put at the 
disposal of the command, and the colonel thinks it best to 
hurry forward in order to meet General Atkinson beyond 
the Barribault villages, thus securing himself against any 

possible assault ” 

He stopped, with sudden recollection. 

“ Immediately ? This afternoon ? But we shall not be 
ready 1” cried Miss McGregor, With a look of dismay. 


366 MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

** Surely Colonel Bentley will not push on without us 1 
It must not be. Somebody must go and hurry Logan and 
Lapierre about our transportation.’^ 

She spoke so earnestly that the captain looked still more 
gratified and her sister more surprised and troubled. 

If you think the guns and ammunition require an ad- 
ditional guard,” Madeleine began 

“ Be under no apprehension,” said Captain Lytle, gently. 

Colonel Bentley, you may be sure, will make as much a 
point as heretofore of keeping you close under our wing. 
But, from what I have observed of the proceedings of your 
enterprising employes, I doubt not your boats will be ready 
to leave at the same moment as ours — early to-morrow 
morning at farthest.” 

Great diligence in preparation being thus incumbent on 
all concerned. Miss McGregor saw that she must defer the 
proposed interview with the young chief for yet awhile. 
Accordingly, she and her sister, escorted by their military 
attendants and M. Tremblay, , crossed the parade-ground 
and descended to the little landing below the sutler’s tent. 
The bourgeois was there waiting for them with a canoe, 
which he had brought from the trading-house. 

Before stepping on board. Miss McGregor gave, in a low 
tone, to one of the engages who stood near, laden with 
bundles and packages, a message, which he in turn trans- 
mitted to a comrade who at the moment was paddling a 
pirogue towards the farther landing to gather up the re- 
maining butin. 

“ Quien, Valentin I Va crier ce Courte-Oreille, Le Loup, 
la-haut. Dis-lui de venir a I’autre bord chez Monsieur 
Glode, tout d’suite — not’ demoiselle a besoin de lui parler. 
Qu’il se presse — dans le plus bref— sans s’amuser.” 

Which may be translated, — 

“See here, Valentine! go and find that Ottawa, The 


MARK LOGAN, TUB BOURGEOIS. 


35t 


Wolf (Moa-way). Tell him the young lady wants him 
over at Lapierre’s. Bid him hurry, without stopping to 
play.’» 


CHAPTER XLYIII. 

It would be no easy matter, Miss McGregor well knew, 
for the boats to pursue their course down the Wisconsin 
unAer shadow of night, the channel being changeful and 
indirect, owing to the shoals and small islands with which 
the river abounds. 

Yet, wholly occupied with the plan she had now in her 
mind, she would have had Logan give the word to pro- 
ceed, the moment all had crossed the portage and were 
settled on board. 

A more timid person might have held back, from fear 
of ambuscades, or possibly open onslaught, from the friends 
of Wau-nig-sootsh-kah ; Monica, on the contrary, was ready 
to brave whatever perils might beset her path. 

The impatience of the young lady now to hurry forward, 
when but a few hours ago she had made a point of remain- 
ing in his vicinity, would have puzzled Captain. Lytle not 
A little ; but doubly would he have been mortified could he 
have divined that from the first he had formed no feature 
in her plans except as an auxiliary for the rescue of “ that 
Puan,’' as he had spitefully denominated the Red Bird. 

With the caprice of a heart almost in despair. Miss Mc- 
Gregor had turned to a new device even before parting 
with her military escort at the little landing. The object 
with which she had summoned Moa-way to the house of 
Lapierre had been, that she might dispatch him across the 
hills to the village of Day-kau-ray, at which spot, she had 


358 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


ascertained, Tshah-nee^kah, the father-in-law of the Red 
Bird, now was. She hoped that since the cruel, cowardly 
chief had contrived to evade the penalty due to his com- 
plicity in the butcheries at the Prairie, he would lend his 
aid to some scheme by which he could, without danger to 
himself^ effect the release of his son-in-law. She had ac- 
cordingly, by her messenger, enjoined upon him to meet 
her at a designated spot on their route, that they might 
together concert measures for the accomplishment of the 
end she had in view. 

In order to secure an interview of sufiScient length, she 
was, therefore, urgent with the bourgeois to set forth with- 
out delay. Great was her astonishment at being met, not 
with hesitation merely, but with a resolute denial of her 
request. The language of the young man was courteous, 
but it was decided, as he announced his determination to 
pass the night at only a few furlongs’ distance from the 
point of embarkation on the Wisconsin. 

“ I have given my word to Colonel Bentley,” Logan 
said, “ that I wnll keep within hail of the detachment he 
has sent over to guard the boats, throughout the night.” 

‘‘ Are his soldiers afraid ? Do they want us poor citi- 
zens to take care of them ?” asked Miss McGregor, scorn- 
fully. 

“ I fancy the commanding officer has still misgivings 
that the Winnebagoes may attempt to possess themselves 
of the arms and ammunition which we carry, and, by their 
aid, undertake the rescue of their friends,” replied the 
bourgeois. 

“ Well, after all, we are not under military rule,” argued 
Miss McGregor. “ What right has Colonel Bentley to be 
giving us orders ? I am perfectly willing to assume the 
responsibility of prosecuting our journey, in any way and 
at any time we may see fit.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


359 


“ But I can hardly undertake the responsibility of break- 
ing the pledge I have given him,” said Logan. 

“You are supposed to act under my orders,” persisted 
the young lady. “ The blame, if any, will rest upon me.” 

“Pardon me, madam,” said the young man, drawing 
himself up with an air which Miss McGregor thought quite 
out of place in a bourgeois, “ I do not so understand it.” 
Then, as if recollecting himself, he added, — 

“ The commanding officer has overlooked one act of dis- 
obedience on our part, and we must not forget that we are 
between two fires — the command at this place, and the 
troops of General Atkinson farther down the river. I can- 
not answer it to my chief, Mr. McGregor, who is, I am 
told, always careful to preserve the best relations with the 
military, if I am a second time instrumental in setting 
Government officers at defiance,” 

Not quite discouraged, Monica next had recourse to her 
sister : — 

“ I wish, Madeleine, you would persuade that young 
man to set off at once. He will not refuse, I dare say, if 
you ask him. We need but move on fifteen or twenty 
miles, to a point where we can be more quiet and safe than 
here. You must see how unpleasant this neighborhood 
will be — soldiers coming and going — the woods around 
filled with Indian lodges I You have always seemed anx- 
ious to escape both the one and the other.” 

“Yes, that is very true — I have never liked them much ; 
that is, I had rather be quiet and retired, as you say. But 
what is the bourgeois’ objection to going ?” 

“ Oh, he pretends to feel bound by some promise he 
made to Colonel Ben'tley. As if the bourgeois of an outfit 
was the responsible party! What does he expect would 
happen to him f What could Colonel Bentley do to him ?” 

“It is no consideration of that kind, you may depend,” 


360 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


said Madeleine, coloring. But if Mr. Logan has given 
his word, he is, of course, bound to keep it.” 

“ Which means, that you will not oblige me,” said Miss 
McGregor, with a glance half scornful, half indignant. 
Madeleine turned away. 

There was yet another person to whom arguments could 
be addressed — old Michaud. If he could- only be made to 
believe that the safety of the cargoes depended upon their 
putting a certain number of miles between themselves and 
the moody savages who were congregated near this point, 
and, for aught they knew, were engaged at this moment 
in counselling and plotting! But Michaud proved as im- 
practicable as the others. 

“ The men had toiled so hard all day in dragging boats 
and carrying packs 1 Harder than the oxen of M. Glode, 
par exemple! They must have their rest now. Two 
pipes, three pipes were not much, perhaps, when the men 
were fresh — oh, no — a mere trifle. But in the night, after 
a hard day’s work, voyez-vous — c’est toute autre chose !” 

Monica, baffled and chagrined, could only betake herself 
to her couch in bitterness of spirit, and evil were the angels 
she entertained while devising some means of requiting 
the bourgeois and her sister for their share in her disap- 
pointment. 

The scheme she had so hastily matured in her own mind 
had promised so well I It had seemed so feasible, so almost 
certain of accomplishment I 

Tshah-nee-kah, she had not doubted, would accept her 
rendezvous ; she would have contrived, by aid of a canoe 
which Moa-way, as on a former occasion, would have had 
in readiness, to leave the boat, under cover of the darkness, 
and meet the old chief at the appointed place. She would 
have pleaded with him by every consideration of fidelity 
and gratitude to the young hero who had taken upon him- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


361 


self to suffer in his stead ; or, if need were, she would have 
worked upon his fears by hints of what she affected to 
know of his own culpability. Moa-way would be her pro- 
tection while she ventured upon such a menace, and while 
she suggested a possibility of the May-yah-hat-tee-rah 
(Big Knives) remaining in the Winnebago country until 
the third accomplice in the Gagnier murders should be sur- 
rendered. Thus she would have stimulated him till he 
should have yielded a promise to do all in his power for the 
rescue of his friend ; even, if need were, to follow the ex- 
ample of the famous warrior Kish-kil-wah, and, disguising 
himself as a bear or deer, to venture into the vicinity of 
the next evening’s encampment, draw off the attention of 
ofiBcers and guards, who, eager for the chase, would leave 
the coast comparatively clear and give the prisoners a 
chance to creep from their tent, gain the water, and swim 
like otters to a place of safety, beyond all danger of pursuit. 

Such had been the stratagem which Monica had devised. 
She had even planned how she should play her part in the 
first moments of discovery, by sending forth her own shrieks 
of pretended alarm, and adding to the confusion which 
should hinder effectual pursuit. -But now all her schemes 
were scattered to the winds. There remained scarcely a 
hope for Wau-nig-sootsh-kah. 

Tshah-nee-kah would go to the appointed place of meet- 
ing ; he would fail to find her there ; he would wait in vain 
for her; he would believe himself deceived, or he would 
fear being betrayed; he would take, as he had already 
done, the safe side, and leave the Red Bird to his fate. 

There was yet one chance ; a slender one, it is true, but 
still a chance. It was barely possible that the voyageurs, 
by encouraging praises and secret promises of reward, of 
neither of which she would be sparing, might be induced 
to press forward with more than usual vigor on the .follow- 

31 


362 


3IARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


ing morning, and, by getting a sufficient distance in advance 
of the other fleet, gain for her a half-hour’s time, for a con- 
ference with the old chief. This possibility was now her 
only hope. 

Disdaining all reply to remark, inquiry, or ofler of kind- 
ness from her sister, Monica buried herself in silence, if not 
in slumber. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

She did slumber at length, spite of the griefs and vicis- 
situdes of the preceding hours. Her dreams, as was natu- 
ral, were but a succession of sad and troubled changes. 

Now she was in a canoe, striving to overtake Wau-nig- 
sootsh-kah, that she might warn him of evil threatened him 
by Captain Lytle ; yet, paddle as she might, with all her 
strength and skill, her canoe kept constantly retreating in- 
stead of going forward. She saw with agony the distance 
increasing between them ; soon he would be out of sight 
altogether! She tried to raise her voice, to call and apprise 
him of his danger ; but a hoarseness seemed to have come 
upon her, and she could not, with her most despairing 
efforts, utter a sound. Then the scene changed, and she 
was marching along with a crowd, as it seemed, to some 
military spectacle ; such a long, weary way that she was 
nigh fainting with fatigue. All at once she discovered 
that the scqne to be enacted was the execution of the Red 
Bird. There, “ gaunt and grim,” before her stood the appa- 
ratus by which his life was to be terminated! She tried to 
sign to the executioner to stop; she seemed to wave aloft 
a paper which some one had thrust into her hand, when 
suddenly Captain Lytle, whom she now perceived to be 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


363 


walking by her sid«, drew her shawl over her head and 
face, whispering, “ You must not look that way.” She 
struggled to free herself— to call for aid from the crowd, 
when a loud shout announced that all was over, and, in- 
stead of a dirge, a band stationed near struck u|^ a lively 
air. 

At this point 'illusion gave place to reality. Tl^e shout 
was the clear, ringing call of the bourgeois to his men, — 
“ How I how ! how !” and the music, that of the drum and 
fife, approaching nearer and nearer, and indicating the 
arrival of another detachment of the military, doubtless 
the one which had charge of the prisoners. 

Monica sprang from her couch, and hastened to arrange 
her dress. She might, possibly, see Wau-nig-sootsh-kah 
again I She might even exchange a sentence or twm with 
him I In the hurry and bristle of embarking, who would 
notice,, or, rather, who would interfere to prevent, a move- 
ment on her part of sympathy and condolence with the 
unfortunate? And in the few words she might find means 
to whisper, how much might be conveyed I 

Transported with these thoughts ^s she hurriedly com- 
pleted her toilet, she was totally unobservant of other 
sounds which fell gratefully on the ear of her more atten- 
tive sister ; the calls from boat to boat of their own little 
fleet, — the shouts and prders to the different clerks in 
charge, — the responsive ‘‘ oui, oui, mon bourgeois,” in tones 
equally sgnorous, — the grating of the keel beneath them 
on its sandy bed, — the cries of whoop la! pousse’, pousse', 

. — Ah! le voila! — whoop! whoop! arrache’, nos gens, — 
who-o-o-p !” 

“ Ah !” said Madeleine, with a sigh of relief, “ we are off. 
That is good. I was so much afraid we would have to 
breakfast here among all these people.” 

Throwing up the canvas curtain in spite of the remon- 


364 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


strances of her sister, Miss McGregor saw that they were 
indeed afloat. With a little more “ Scie, scfe’-ing and 
Prenez garde Zd”-ing, the boats were presently gliding 
through the water, and the foremost crew, having gained 
the channel, were lilting forth, — 

Je fis demand-e a ma mer-e 
Un remede a mon talon j 
Ma mer-e fit r4pons-e 
Un carotte me serait bon. 

Un carotte, 5a me frotte, 

Pour un rem^d-e, pour un remid' 

A mon talon.”* 

As their own boat turned from its moorings, Miss Mc- 
Gregor threw herself upon a seat, gazing in gloomy dis- 
appointment towards the spot at which the detachment 
was just arriving. 

She saw a company of officers and soldiers, and, march- 
ing in their midst, the lithe and graceful form of the Red 
Bird, with the miserable Wee-kau by bis side. It was but 
for a moment ; the boat rounded the point of an island to 
gain a deeper channel, and officers, soldiers, and prisoners 
were shut out from her view. 

“ The fates are ever against me,*^ said she, bitterly, to 
herself. Yet she had little cause to complain of their 
obduracy when a few more hours had gone by. 

Michaud had had compunctious twinges as he recalled 
the woe-begone look of his young lady on the previous 
evening, and he now resolved to atone for his inflexi- 
bility. 

Since getting ahead of “ messieurs les soldats^^ — towards 


*I asked of my mother a cure for my heel; 
She answered me that a carrot was good. 
A carrot rubs, however, 

As a cure for my heel. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


365 


whom the old voyageui* had, by virtue of his vocation, a 
standing grudge — was the question. Miss McGregor should 
have no cause for complaint this day. No — if-the men 
should pull “d dehoUer les epaules,^^ the young lady’s 
pleasure should be done. 

Accordingly, the kind-hearted hivernant cut all hands 
short with their morning’s pipe (their meal could never be 
curtailed), in order that he might put himself en vedette and 
make the strokes of his men keep time to the most ani- 
mating and hilarious songs of his whole repertory. 

If at any time the crews showed a disposition to relax • 
in their speed, the voice of their lead^Jr would be heard, 
like a clarion, cheering or gibing as the case might re- 
quire. 

“Arrache’, arrache’, nos gens — pour la pipe, pour la 
pipe. Whoop-la ! Sacre mon diable I ne dormez-pas 1 
ar-ra-chez done I” 

Madeleine would fain have lingered a little on their 
course, to take in with fuller enjoyment the successive 
beauties of the landscape, — the varied outline of the shore, 
now bold and crowned with primeval forests or frowning 
in rugged battlements, now swelling in waves of green 
turf, brilliant in the rays of the morning sun ; here the clift' 
with face variegated fantastically, like mammoth mosaic, 
anon a cluster of islets reflecting in the watery mirror 
their fringes of sturdy oak, with the silver-stemmed, 
feathery birch, the trumpet-shaped elm, and dark cedar 
intermingled; or, most attractive of all, a jutting headland, 
on which might be seen the deer coming at this early hour 
to slake their thirst, then, starting, scared away by the 
sound of the oars and the song of the boatmen. 

There was no relaxing in old Michaud, no letting up, be- 
yond the solace of a single pipe, as he kept on with his 
apparently interminable refrain, — 

31 * 


366 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


, Je fis demand-e S, ma mere 
Uu remede a mon talon ; 

Ma mSr-e fit r6pons-e 

* Un navot me serait bon. 

Un navot, 

C’est trop gros ,* 

Un oignon, 

C’est trop ronde ; 

' Du persil, 

me chatouille ; 

, Un carotte, 

• ^a me frotte, 

Pour un remode a mon talon,” 

and so on, through all the varieties of vegetable nature, 
until the little fleet drew near the spot for which his young 
lady had, the night before, pleaded as their stopping-place. 

Miss McGregor was advertised of their approach to it by 
a shrill whoop from a distance, promptly responded to by 
a shout from the bourgeois as he sprang to the bow of the 
boat, looking anxiously forward. 

Monica did not need the explanation given in reply to 
M. Tremblay’s timid inquiry, “ Who dat sauvage la?’’ 

“ It is the Ottawa, Moa-way, I think. How he comes 
here is more than. I can conjecture.” 

“Ah I le Courte-Oreille — M. le Loup! Mon Dieu ! how 
dese wile beasts do have dere contrivement of cunning I 
And in a canot, too, and coming from de oder way ! Eh 1 
bien certainement, nobody never can do such ting widout 
de deb’ do help wid his horse’s foot I” 

And the poor Monsieur shot out his huge under-lip and 
bent his brows in troubled perplexity. 

“ I shall have to ask the favor of you, Mr. Logan, to 
make a little halt at the point of land just below,” said 
Miss McGregor, in a tone rather of command than request. 
“ Give the men, if you please, a somewhat longer pipe 
than usual. They have earned it by the speed they have 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 367 

made already this morning. M. Tremblay and I are going 
on shore for awhile.’^ 

“ Moi — pardoniiez — dat is, I ask a tousand excuse, Miss 
Monique ; but, remember you, dese is no time to run 
great risk. Miss Monique not want to go ashore to see de 
woods and de grass of de prairies ; nor me, no more, to 
see dese canaille of sauvages. Recollect you, dear young 
demoiselle, dat it is not pritty, neider safe.” And the poor 
gentleman’s teeth fairly chattered. “Ven dese excellent 
people want to see us, dey shall come in our boat, n’est-ce 
pas 

“ Ah, yes, Monica, that will surely be the better way. 
Do not, pray, do not trust yourself ashore,” pleaded Made- 
leine. 

“ Rest assured, I shall conduct you into no danger, mon- 
sieur,” said Miss McGregor, without vouchsafing a reply 
to her sister’s remonstrances. “You can take your seat 
in the open space on that rising ground yonder, in full 
view of the boats ; and, if that is not sufficient, I will leave 
Moa-way to mount guard over you.” 

Her lip curleS a little as she observed that Monsieur, 
far from feeling reassured, was still muttering, — 

“ For setting de wolf to take care of de sheep, I don’t like 
it too much — me. I did promise your respectable fader to 
keep by de side' of his daught’, so I cannot say noting to 
de opposite of what Miss Monique command. Miss Mo- 
nique mus’ hab her own way, certainement — Helas I Ce 
n’est pas amusant.” And the poor man rose up with an air 
which he strove to make as little cowardly and dissatisfied 
as possible. 

The boats had turned in at the foot of a little promontory, 
which, sloping and bare, extended upwards a few furlongs 
till it met a fringe of heavy forest trees. 

Moa-way, with his canoe, had returned to this point. 


368 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Whether he had communicated with her sister, Madeleine 
could not tell. It was evident there was an understanding 
between them. 

It was with a feeling of intense anxiety that she saw the 
latter, after stepping on shore, follow the Ottawa up the 
slope to its farthest verge ; and this feeling grew into 
absolute terror when she observed that the Indian seated 
himself beside M. Tremblay upon the grass, while Monica, 
after apparently a few words of conference with the former, 
disappeared within the recesses of the forest. 


CHAPTER L. 

Miss McGregor had not to walk far. The person she 
had come to meet was awaiting her in a little glade or 
clearing made by one of those whirling tempests which 
occasionally leave traces of their ravages in our Western 
woods. 

He was seated on the ground beside a fallen tree, his 
gun leaning across his knees, with his hand ready to clutch 
it. He was evidently on the alert. 

He rose up, at the approach of footsteps, with a spring so 
light and agile that it hardly seemed the movement of a 
man past the prime of life. He was large and muscular 
in frame, with a lowering expression which was greatly 
increased by the effect of a mass of coarse hair drooping, 
contrary to the custom of his people, low over his brow, 
and by the black paint with which his face was smeared 
in token of either fasting or bereavement. 

Monica could hardly repress a shudder of repulsion ; yet 
she walked bravely on. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


369 


Tshah-nee-kah she inquired, for it was long since they 
had met. 

“ Mau-nee-kah I Hee-noo-kar-ray-kay-noo !”* was his 
quiet salutation, but without offering his hand — an omis- 
sion from which Monica drew no favorable augury. 

In obedience to a gesture from the chief, she seated her- 
self upon the fallen tree, at a little distance from him. 
Tshah-nee-kah resumed his seat upon his blanket, uiigirded 
his pipe, with which he had abstained from solacing him- 
self while on the qui~mve, and, lighting it from his tinder- 
box, smoked in silence. He was evidently resolved to 
wait until the one who had sought the conference should 
commence it. 

Miss McGregor did not keep him long in expectation. 
‘‘ Your son-in-law is in the hands of his enemies,’^ she 
began. 

<< Yes — he has thrown away his life,” was the stolid 
reply. 

“ He has offered his life to save his people from destruc- 
tion at the hand of the Big Knives,” was the emphatic 
correction. 

The chief made a derisive gesture. “ What would the 
Big Knives have done ? They could not have entered our 
country ; Four-Legs held the key 1” 

“ No — for Osh-kosh was beyond him, and the Menomo- 
nees are now the sworn allies of the Big Knives.” 

“ Osh-kosh is a wise man. He would let his young men 
travel on the war-path with the Big Knives and eat their 
rations, but when it came to be a question of fighting he 
would bid them sit still in their lodges. Wau-nig-sootsh- 
kah was a fool. He ought to have known that every boat 


*-« Traveller, welcome!” The latter word corresponds to our “IIow 
do you do?” yet it is not an inquiry after the health. A salutation of any 
kind is seldom used at meeting in the presence of strangers. 


870 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


of the Big Knives could have been swamped before they 
reached Mee-nay-zhah — also thatHee-zharn-wau-zhee-kah* 
was ready to fall upon them if they attempted to pass him 
by land, and that, further, there were braves to meet them 
at the Ma-zhee-gaw-gaw and pick them off like marmots 
in a freshet.” 

“ It may have been a mistake in Wau-nig-sootsh-kah to 
surrender himself, but it is done now; it cannot be undone. 
The only thing is to try and rescue him. We who are 
his friends must save him from his fate.” 

The savage regarded her from under his mass of black 
hair with a glance that was anything but reassuring. 

She saw that he was not her friend. Why should he be ? 
Had not the Red Bird’s love for her rendered his beloved 
daughter Way-noo-nah unhappy? Her heart sank within 
her as she thought, “ What if, in revenge upon us both, he 
leaves Wau-nig-sootsh-kah to perish ?” 

She did not quail, however, in outward seeming. She 
went on with apparent composure to lay before the chief 
the plan she had formed for the Red Bird’s rescue, and her 
reasons for believing that if undertaken it would be success- 
ful. Of Wee-kau she did not remember to hint so much as 
a syllable. 

Tshah-nee-kah listened to the whole detail without aiding 
by remark or suggestion ; he continued to smoke in a silence 
that, to say the least, looked unsympathizing. 

When she ceased, he removed the pipe slowly from his 
mouth, and, after a moment, he said, — 

“ At what hour must the game be played ?” 

“About the hour of our evening encampment — in the 
early dusk — this evening, if possible.” 


♦Wild Cat, the chief of Garlic Island. 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


sn 

“ This evening the troops from below will encamp with 
jou — they will be at Ee-nee-hoa-no-nik !”* 

Miss McGregor started. “Is that so ? Are you certain 
of it?’' 

“It is true. My young men saw the boats at the Sauk 
-Prairie.” 

Miss McGregor reflected a few moments. 

“Even if so,” she said, “ I cannot see that our scheme 
need be relinquished. The guards- of Wau-nig-Soofsh-kah 
can be tempted to relax their vigilance ; and, once having 
evaded them and reached the water, our friend can as well 
escape frem a hundred pursuers as from ten.” ■ 

Tshah-nee-kah fixed upon her a penetrating look. 

“And who will persuade Wau-nig-Sootsh*kah to evade 
his guards and take to the water ?” he asked.- “Has he given 
his life to save his people from the Big Knives,” — there was 
a savage irony in the tones of the old chief as he quoted 
her words, — “ and will he, before two suns have set, repent 
his sacrifice, and steal away like a badger from a trap ?” 

Monica did notventure to look up. She felt the full force 
of the old man’s rebuke. Finding she did notvspeak, he 
went on: — “Who would counsel Wau-nig-sootsh-kah to 
such a course? I am a man. Let Way-noo-nah think of 
her husband as a warrior — a brave 

The cruel Tshah-nee-kah gloated over the pang' which 
he saw that his worils inflicted on his daughter’s rival. 

Miss McGregor, however, though humiliated, did not 
altogether yield the point. After a pause of- a few minutes, 
she said, calmly, “ Then, if there is no hope in the scheme 
I proposed, another must be chosen. Wau-nig-sootsh-kah 
must be saved. You, Ee-aun-chee-wee-rab,f must devise 


Petit Rocher (Little Rock), on the Wisconsin. 

•(• Father — a term of respect rather than of endearment. 


372 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


some means of disappointing our bloodthirsty enemies. 
Is there no stratagem you can suggest?” 

Tshah-nee-kah pondered before replying. He was him- 
self too crafty to be moved by the cajoling accents of his 
companion ; he was meditating plans of his own and for 
purposes of his own. 

“ What would be done by the Big Knives, those who have 
our brethren in custody,” he asked, “ if they were told that 
I and my band had seized upon you and were about putting 
you to a slow and torturing death ?” 

Monica turned pale, and shivered in spite of herself. 
She quickly recovered, however, as she saw that there 
was more of cunning than of cruelty in the glance with 
which the old man regarded her. With the quick com- 
prehension of her people, she seized his meaning, and 
replied, — 

“ They would send you a warning that the lives of 
Wau-nig-sootsh-kah and Wee-kau should answer for mine ; 
that harm happening to me would be a signal for their 
execution, without trial and without delay.” 

“ Good I and what the white man can do the red man 
can do.” 

“Even so,” said Miss McGregor. “The question would 
be where to look for a hostage or hostages. I, being one 
of yourselves, would be of no use should I remain an 
apparent captive. The whites would not be beguiled into 
any scheme of exchanging their prisoners for one who, 
they would clearly understand, could be in no possible 
danger.” 

“No, you are not tb« person,” said the chief, “nor 
is this the time. -We must wait till the solders who are 

abroad in the country have returned to their posts, till 

Day-kau-ray, who has been held under arrest at the Prairie, 
has returned to his home,— till suspicion is lulled to sleep. 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 313 

Then wo must look for some member of a prominent 
family, some person whose capture would be a matter of 
; such consequence that our Great Father, as they teach us 
1 to call him, will bid high to purchase him out of our hands. 

; Wau-nig-sootsh-kah must be patient ; ere many months be 
j may be ransomed.” 

i “ He muat be ransomed,” said Miss McGregor, emphatic- 
I ally. “He must not be made a victim of his own heroism. 

! He shall not be punished for doing what he has been taught 
! to consider right ; for avenging the wanton slaughter of 
his relatives on the Upper Mississippi. I cannot give 
myself as a hostage; it would be of no avail. But if I 
had ” She stopped short. 

Tshah-nee-kah waited a moment. “ If you had a rela- 
tive not of our blood, you would give him I Is that what 
you would say 

Monica did not answer. Thoughts of which she was 
, ashamed, which for a moment she struggled against, were 
flying through her brain. The chief read what was pass- 
ing more clearly than she imagined, but he did not hasten 
to help her ; hd left her for some minutes silent, thought- 
ful, as she sat turning round her fingers a spray of a “gad- 
ding vine” that trailed along the log on which she was 
seated. 

At length Tshah-nee-kah spoke, as if giving the result 
of careful deliberation : — 

“ Your father is a man of consequence. The Govern- 
ment would offer largely for his release, if a party of our 
young men should be so fortunate as to capture him some 
day.” 

“ My father ? Oh, no, no I not my father I” said Miss 
McGregor, with emphasis; “he must be sacred. The 
shade of my mother would visit me if I suspected danger 
menacing him and failed to put him on his guard. No, 

32 


314 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


not my father.” Her voice sank as she repeated again, 
Not ra'tj father P' . 

‘‘You have no other relative?” said Tshah-nee-kah, in- 
quiring! as if he were ignorant of the particulars of her 
domestic life and history. 

“ I have a sister — my father’s daughter,” she replied, in 
alow tone, which she strove to make indifferent. 

“ Does your father love her well enough to attempt the 
release of Waumig-sootsh-kah for her sake?” 

“ She is dear to him beyond all else on the face of the 
earth,” replied Miss McGregor, bitterly. “Everything, 
everybody, would be but as dust in the balance if weighed 
against her safety and happiness.” 

“ Then,” said Tshab-nee-kab, with quiet decision, “ she 
is the key with which we must open the door of the Red 
Bird’s prison. At the right moment, by-and-by, — you 
shall be warned when the time approaches. Things must 
get back to their former state of quietness. The past 
must be in some measure forgotten ; our people must fall 
into their old habits of going to Tee-pee-sau-kee* to trade. 
When the proper hour is near at hand, you will hear from 
me again.” 

Tshah-nee-kah rose from his seat. Miss McGregor did 
the same. She felt humbled even under the eye of one so 
cruel and treacherous as the. savage to whose suggestions 
she had lent such a willing ear. Yet- she did not the less, 
in her heart of hearts, congratulate herself that the sug- 
gestion had been made ; neither did she for a moment falter 
in her resolution of aiding and abetting whatever scheme 
should be proposed that would secure the accomplishment 
of the object she had at heart. 

As the old chief and his companion walked a little way 


♦ Prairie du Chien — literally, Sauh lodga. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Sts 


forward on the path by which the latter had come, another 
figure glided stealthily away in the shelter of the fallen logs, 
and, passing noiselessly in the rear of some clumps of 
shrubs and bushes, by a little circuit had gained the open 
ground, and was sti-etcbed at lazy length beside the dozing 
Monsieur Tremblay, when Miss McGregor drew near and 
announced her readiness to return to her party in the 
boat. 


CHAPTER LI. 

Monica found, on observing the height which the sun 
had gained in the heavens, that the half-hour she had be- 
spoken for a pipe for the boatmen had lengthened itself 
into at least two hours. The bourgeois had, doubtless, 
been impatient; but that was a matter of small moment. 
She only wished she could have prolonged the sojourn of 
their party for a still more extended season, to insure their 
being overtaken by the other boats. Now that her schemes 
for his release were thoroughly matured, she was anxious 
to obtain, if possible, an interview with the Red Bird, and 
cheer him with a detail of the flattering prospect. 

It cost her something of an effort to meet her sister with 
an unembarrassed countenance. The consciousness of all 
that she had been plotting made her uncomfortable in spite 
of herself; and when Madeleine sprang to meet her with 
demonstrations of joy at her safe return, and would have 
clasped her in a tender embrace, Monica found it difficult 
to receive her caresses coldly and without a pretence of 
Teturning them. 

She strove to stifle her compunctious feelings by argu- 
ments to her conscience, somewhat to this effect ; — 


37'6 


MARK LOGAK, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“After all, what will it be ? A few days, or, at mTTst, a 
few weeks, at their village near the Four Lakes I Why 
should any one^shrink from that ? Have not the happiest, 
the most blissful days of my life been passed in that beau- 
tiful spot? She will meet with nothing but kindness ; old 
Wee-rah-kah will pet her and make much of her. A visit 
there may have the effect of banishing from her mind the 
prejudices that now make her so uncomfortable. And she 
is so tender-hearted that when she finds her capture has 
been the means of saving the Red Bird’s life, she will re- 
joice rather than complain that she has borne her part in 
the good work.” 

She strove to dismiss the subject from her mind, while 
she cast about for some excuse for detaining the little fleet 
still longer on its voyage. 

There was enough of the aboriginal in her nature to 
make her first impulse that of devising some stratagem for 
accomplishing this object ; but a moment’s reflection con- 
vinced her that the plain truth would probably serve her 
purpose best. 

The gracious phrases of apology with which she began 
explaining her protracted absence were, as she at once per- 
ceived, quite superfluous. The bourgeois had not the air 
of one whose time had hung heavy upon his hands, and, 
truth to tell, Madeleine was entirely unaware of the length 
of her sister’s absence. She would probably have been 
excessively worried had she observed the stealthy manner 
in which the Ottawa had quitted his recumbent position 
beside the sleeping Monsieur, and she would have com- 
mented upon it to the bourgeois ; but it so happened that 
she had not remembered, after the first ten minutes, to 
look in that direction, or, indeed, towards any other point, 
except alternately from the embroidery in her hand to the 
countenance of the companion who sat before her, now 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. sn 

reading aloud, now stopping to talk upon other subjects, in 
the absorbing interest of which all note of time was lost. 

“ I have seen a chief of the Winnebagoes,” Miss Mc- 
Gregor began, with an air of frankness, “ a stranger to 
you, I think, Madeleine, and he tells me that bis young 
men have come in with a report that the troops from St. 
Louis are only about thirty miles below us on the river. 
It was for that reason, among others, that I did not hurry 
myself to return and give order to set forward. I thought 
you would deem it advisable, Mr. Logan, to wait still a 
little while longer here, until we are joined by our military 
friends. Does not that seem to you preferable to encamp- 
ing in the immediate vicinity of strangers?” 

The bourgeois could not say that it would ; to tell the 
truth, these military friends were woefully in his way. But, 
as this was a fact he could not advance in objection to Miss 
McGregor’s suggestion, he acquiesced with a good grace, 
remembering that he had already had two hours of un- 
looked-for happiness, and that to-morrow they should prob- 
ably be rid of all travelling companions save the members 
of their own party. 

The only stipulation which accompanied his assent to 
the proposed delay was, that they should proceed for yet a 
couple of pipes farther, to a beautiful encamping-ground, 
where, according to old Michaud, they would find clear 
spring-water, fine timber, and safety from “ cette canaille 
de Puans.” 

The voyageurs, after reaching and taking possession of 
the romantic spot, whose praises Michaud had not vaunted 
too loudly, had hardly begun to “ boil their kettle” when, 
with shout and song, the little fleet of Colonel Bentley 
came sweeping down the rapid course of the Wisconsin. 

It was amusing to observe how, in the lugubrious melody 
of “ Springfield Mountain,” or the more animated strain? 

32 * 


SIS 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


of “ Handsome Harry, the Yankee soldiers had learned to j 
emulate the style of the Canadian boatmen, though with j 
noble independence bidding defiance to the arbitrary re- ' 
straints that would have bound them to take their cue from 
one particular leader. 

Miss McGregor’s heart bounded with joy as the boats 
approached the spot on which her party were already en- 
camped and she perceived that it was the intention of the 
officers to pitch their tents in neighborly proximity. 

She should see the Red Bird ! She could whisper to 
him words of hope I She would bid him be of good courage, 
and she would hint of the means by which she and his 
father-in-law would work for his liberation. 

Captain Lytle was the one on whose friendship she must 
mainly rely. She chased away his image as he stood be- 
fore her in the dreams of the previous night, hindering her 
efforts for the safety of the young chief, instead of lending 
a helping hand. No, she would not be superstitious — she 
would not believe in omens — her Church forbade it. She 
would rely upon her power to charm her admirer. He 
would not be able to resist her blandishments — her co- 
quetry — if to that weapon she should be forced to resort. 
He would have no chance, she remembered, to upbraid her 
afterwards with her insincerity, for were not the two 
parties to separate on the following day ? Could she not, 
indeed, at any moment give the word for her own people 
to push on, and, if need were, run away outright from re- 
proaches and disagreeable recriminations ? 

Such were the thoughts which chased each other as she 
rose up, with smiling grace, to receive the bevy of gentle- 
men, who, having left their boats at a reasonable distance 
above the spot chosen by Michaud for his encampment, 
came with prompt courtesy to pay their respects to the 
young ladies. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


319 


Monica was dazzling in her beauty this evening. The 
sad and wan expression of the last few days had vanished. 
Hope, which she called certainty, of the rescue of her hero, 
sent the blood coursing through her veins and gave bril- 
liancy to her eye and a bloom to her cheek. 

Captain Lytle, as he gazed, and as he listened to the 
tones of her gentle, melodious voice, no longer hesitated 
what he should do. 

“ It’s all a humbug,” he said to himself. " She cares 
no more for that cursed red-skin than she does for one of 
her boatmen. On the contrary, it is pretty evident that 
she is not altogether indifferent about somebody else ; with- 
out vanity, it is not easy . to mistake that. I wonder if 
Stafford observed that enchanting smile as she offered me 
her hand ? I have a slight curiosity to hear what he will 
say to-morrow morning when I go to ask his congratula- 
tions.” 

The captain, with pleased dignity, lingered near his lady- 
love, ever at hand with courteous attentions, yet careful 
not to show himself too demonstrative and provoke com- 
ment or raillery from his companions. 

The voyageurs had cut down a huge tree and built their 
fire, the warmth of which was not disagreeable at this late 
hour of a September day. The ladies voted for taking 
their meal in the open air, rather than within the shelter 
of the tent, “ It would be such a pity,” Madeleine said, 
“to lose the gorgeous sunset, and the evening song of the 
birds,” which, unscared by the proximity of their unwonted 
visitors, were now carolling forth their farewell to the de- 
parting day. Miss McGregor was not unmindful of the 
duties of hospitality. . 

“ Shall we have the pleasure of your company at our 
mess, gentlemen?” she said. “I can offer you a cup of 
coffee such as only a frenchman can make, and a ham of 


380 


MARK LOOAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


venison iVla-mode, of Madame Lapierre^s preparing. She 
has replenished our mess-basket in a style fit for the Grand 
Seignior.’^ 

The officers excused themselves. They had already ac- 
cepted an invitation from Mrs. Smart, who would be mor- 
tified if they should disappoint her. 

“ Of which, I fancy, she is somewhat afraid,’^ said Lieu- 
tenant Gaylord ; “ for, see, here she comes, like a bashawess 
of three tails, with Mrs. Hale and her two inevitable live- 
olive-branches behind her.” 

The errand of Mrs. Smart was to entreat that the 
young ladies would join the circle she was already pre- 
paring to entertain. “ It is so much better,” she declared, 
“ for old friends and fellow-travellers to keep together as 
much as they can ! I’ve got my Corbin a cooking us a 
first-rate supper. Not but what,” with a glance at the 
mat, “ you’ve got everything wonderfully nice yourselves ; 
but still I’ll do my best by you.” 

“ Which ought to satisfy an epicure, — of that there can 
be no doubt,’! said Miss McGregor, politely; “and, if you 
will allow our people to transfer some of Madame La- 
pierre’s contributions to your table, my sister and I will be 
most happy to add ourselves to your company.” 

Madeleine could not quite echo the civility, yet as little 
could she interpose an objection. 

“ And Moh-shoo Tremblay and Mr. Logan, of course,” 
added Mrs. Smart, an invitation which was joyously ac- 
cepted by Monsieur, but declined by the bourgeois on the 
plea of his presence being required near the sphere of his 
duties ; and almost immediately the party set off. Captain 
Lytle walking by the side of Miss McGregor, who, in the 
gayest spirits, chatted merrily for his entertainment, to the 
great wonder of her sister, who could not comprehend the 
change that a few hours seemed to have wrought. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


381 


CHAPTER LIL 

The Commissioner had been in a state of enviable con- 
tentment throughout the preceding forty-eight hours. 
What with taking notes, asking questions, and speculating 
or theorizing in regard to all that met his eye or ear, he 
had laid up such a fund for the future benefit of the his- 
torical and ethnological world that it had taken him all 
the waking hours of his voyage down the Wisconsin to 
reduce it to order, and prepare it to be packed away in a 
certain cylindrical tin case, fitted to preserve a deposit so 
precious. 

Having completed the last page, and carefully secured 
the whole from the dangers and vicissitudes incident to 
a position in the centre of a substantial leather valise, 
Colonel Babbitt was now ready to make himself as agree- 
able as he dared, to the elder of the two sisters. He had 
an object in view, a favor to ask ; yet he hardly knew how 
to approach the subject, for he still, to tell the truth, felt a 
good deal afraid of the young lady. 

He settled and resettled his wig (for the Commissioner 
did not own, except by purchase, the chestnut curls which 
a recipe of his own made ambrosial), and he conned over 
in his mind all the most innocent phrases in which he 
could clothe his application ; then he ventured, though 
still with some trepidation, to come forward. 

Never had Monica dreamed of finding the Commis- 
sioner so charming, of feeling herself moved by such an 
impulse to hug him to her heart, as while listening to his 
petition : — 

“You will excuse me, my dear young lady; I would 


382 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


not for the world take a liberty, or wound your feelings. 
I entreat you to pardon me if there is the slightest impro- 
priety in what I am about to ask. But to explain: Colo- 
nel Bentley has kindly given me leave to hold a little 
conversation, to ask a few questions, that is, of this young 
Winn(^ago chief whom they have now in custody. I 
assure you, the farthest thing from my thoughts would 
be to say an unkind or reproachful word. It is simply 
to gain information that I would apply to him. Now, as 
you are doubtless aware, there is a difficulty in the way of 
our communicating, he not understanding a word of my 
language, nor I of his-. If you would do me the great, the 
inestimable favor to ask him a few questions as I should 
prompt, and to tell me what he says in reply 

To the Commissioner’s surprise, Miss McGregor inter- 
rupted him with the most cordial cheerfulness : — 

“ I shall be happy to be your interpreter, sir, if Colonel 
Bentley gives me leave. The Red Bird, as you are proba- 
bly aware, is a relative of mine, and I shall feel gi*ateful 
to any one \vho will be the means of allowing him to hear 
even a few sentences of his native tongue.” 

The glance she cast towards Captain JLytle showed him 
unmistakably the surest road to her favor ; and, dreading 
no longer any untoward results from the interview which 
the Commissioner w^s proposing, he did not hesitate to 
whisper her the assurance,— 

“ I will take care that the Commissioner has every facility 
for a conference with the young chief. After your inter- 
view is over,” he added, significantly, “I trust you will 
not refuse me; the pleasure of escorting you on your return 
to your own quarters.” 

Miss McGregor had so much womanly feeling that she 
would have been glad to refuse. She understood- what the 
request foreboded, and she was not so perverted by vain 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 383 

and worldly influences as to be sensible of a triumph in the 
power of causing disappointment to another. True, she 
well understood that the pain her answer would cause 
Captain Lytle would not be a heart-breaking one ; yet she 
was aware that if a man has been led by hopes of success 
to the point of asking a woman to marry him, it is a bitter 
mortification, even if no tender sentiment be wounded, to 
find that he has miscalculated his chances. How she now 
wished that she had been less gracious to her admirer, — 
that she had not led him on to this point ! It had been, 
as it proved, hypocrisy thrown away, for Captain Lytle, 
after all, had not been instrumental in procuring her this 
coming interview with the Red Bird. It was hypocrisy, 
unfortunately, of which she must probably pay a heavy 
penalty ; for Captain Lytle was not the man to take tamely 
and quietly the destruction of hopes which she had en- 
couraged. She would have to listen to a good deal that 
was unpleasant, — of that there could be no doubt, — unless 
she could contrive to “ stave oif” the explanation till the 
following day, and then quietly slip away from it. 

The spot on which the officers had pitched their tents 
was hardly less picturesque than that selected by old 
Michaud for his young mistresses. A charming glade of 
open ground, covered with a profusion of flowers of the 
early autumn, — long spikes of blue lupin, far more luxuriant 
than are to be found in cultivated Eastern gardens, tufts 
of yellow wall-flower in masses like the risibg harvest- 
moon, scarlet adonis in whole parterres^ autumn pinks, 
and the splendid lobelia cardinalis, fringed gentian, and 
variegated heart’s-ease in unspeakable profusion, — the little 
esplanade which they embellished hemmed in by magnifi- 
cent forest trees, upon which the last rose-colored rays of 
the departing sun were resting. 

When the cheerful meal was finished, the Commissioner 


384 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


came to claim the promise of Miss McGregor to accom 
pany him to his interview with Wau-nig-sootsh kah. 

The colonel had considerately assigned a small tent for 
the use of the prisoners, but he did not require them 
to confine themselves to it. The freedom of a moderate 
space around it was granted them, while a double row 
of sentinels in front and rear indicated the slender re- 
liance placed by the Big Knives on the parole of their 
prisoners. 

The Bed Bird had laid aside all his bravery of apparel. 
Some one — it might have been a tender and thoughtful 
woman — had furnished him from the trading-house with a 
neat chintz shirt, a pair of leggings of blue cloth, and a 
blanket of the color which accorded with the name be bore. 
He was sitting in front of his tent, smoking, gazing placidly 
at the sky in an attitude of profound meditation. A smile 
lighted his countenance as he saw who was approaching; 
but, although he sprang to his feet, he did not advance as 
he said, gently, — 

Espanola I Tshah-ko-zshah (What is it?) 

Good news ; sunshine is on the path before us,” she 
replied, in the same calm tone. 

The Commissioner interrupted promptly : — 

“Now, if you would be so good as to ask him these few 
questions,” he said, drawing a folded paper from his pocket, 
“ and then tran^slate to me his answers, you will oblige me 
infinitely.”- 

He produced a small memorandum-book, and prepared 
himself to write as Miss McGregor should dictate. Wee-kau 
sat a little way apart, listening, but taking no share in the 
conversation. 

“ Question first,” began the Commissioner. “ Where did 
the Winnebago tribe come from ? What is their tradition 
upon the subject ?” 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


385 


Miss McG-regor’s translation was to this effect : — 

“I saw Tshah-nee-kah this morning, at a place just 
below the Barribault. He came in compliance with a 
message I sent him by Moa-way.” 

“ Tshah-nee-kah could bring no message that it would 
be pleasant for me to hear,” replied the Red Bird. 

“ He says,” explained Miss McGregor to the Commis- 
sioner, “that the traditions of his people are, that they 
came originally from the Northwest.” 

“ Is it possible ?” cried the Commissioner, hastening to 
write down the answer. “ That is very interesting ! It 
just supports my theory that the Indians are a remnant 
of the lost tribes of Israel. Ask him, if you please, my 
second question. Are there any traces of their having 
been originally divided into tribes ? and what is said about 
it ?” 

“I proposed to Tshah-nee-kah,” continued Miss Mc- 
Gregor, “ to try some stratagem by which your captors 
could be thrown off their guard, in order to give you and 
Wee-kau a chance to escape.” 

Wau-nig-sootsh-kah could not repress a gesture of 
scorn. 

“Was it Espanola who counselled that ?” he asked. 

“ He seems not to like the question. I cannot see what 
there js in it to offend,” said the Commissioner. 

“ Put aside your paper, sir, if you please,” said Miss 
McGregor, with ready wit ; “ it is formidable to one un- 
accustomed to be catechised in this manner.” Then, 
hastily explaining to the Red Bird the stratagem she was 
practicing, she waited for a few words of comment before 
furnishing the Commissioner her next item of informa- 
tion. 

“ He says that there is a tradition among them, that 
their people were originally divided into twelve tribes, but 

33 


386 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


that 111 some manner, of which no trace is preserved, two 
of^ the tribes were lost.”'*' 

“ Wonderful ! most wonderful I How exactly it tallies 
with my theory ! Won^t you ask him, my dear, how he 
accounts for it that the aborigines speak so many different 
languages, all of which are, for the most part, so unlike 
the Hebrew ?” 

“ We have formed a plan to which you cannot object, 
and by which you can be liberated, my friend,” she went 
on to say. “ Your father-in-law will charge himself with 
its execution. He will send emissaries, by-and-by, to 
steal some prominent person or persons at Tee-pee-sau-kee, 
and he will hold them as hostages till government shall 
order your discharge from custody in exchange.” 

“And does Tshah-nee-kah think it will be easy to accom- 
plish such a scheme ? After what has passed at Tee-pee- 
sau-kee, will not everybody use tenfold vigilance and 
watchfulness against our people ? Is it certain that the 
Ho-tshung-rahs will even be permitted to enter the place 
to trade, as heretofore ?” 

“He says,” said Miss McGregor, pondering, “that he 
has always been a hunter and a warrior, and that he has 
never concerned himself with questions about language. 
That he thinks his people talk as the Great Spirit taught 
them to, and that they have never heard how jieople 
talked in the olden time.” 

“ That is very sensible, to say the least. I think your 
friend is a very smart Indian. His answers are wonder- 
fully categorical. I wish you would tell him there used 
to be among the ancient Jews a character very much like 
himself, — Nimrod, a mighty hunter before the Lord,— who 


^ The particulars here giveix are actually among the traditions of the 
Winnobagoes or Ho-tshung-rahs. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 387 

also knew but little about books. I wonder if they have any 
tradition about him ? Will you oblige me by asking 

“You maybe certain, ray friend, that nothing will be 
left untried for your deliverance,” said Miss McGregor, 
earnestly ; “ and W’’e shall succeed — ^certainly we shall 
succeed. Why will you not cheer up, and, view the matter 
in a hopeful light? We have laid our plans so cunningly 
that they cannot fail of accomplishment.”. 

Monica did not say to the Red Bird that the hostage 
had been already 'fixed upon by the savage old chief and 
herself. She had a conviction that the young hero would 
despise her for her want of natural affection — this being 
a vice almost unknown among the untutored heathen. 

“ Will you not let me see you smi^e in the prospect of 
the future ?” she continued. “ Will you not look forward 
with hope ?” 

“ No, Espanola, I cannot look forward with hope such 
as your words would inspire. The path before me is not 
in this world. Last night, as I slept, my father stood over 
me. He had come from the other land. The moon, which 
the Great Spirit made to give light to the dead, shone 
pale about him. He bade me go tO; a high hill from which 
I could overlook our beautiful country. ‘ You will say 
good-by,^ said he, ‘ and come to me 1 The day is approach- 
ing when our people will take their leave of this their 
home, and go weeping and mourning to a land of strangers. 
When you have said farewell, you will see our lakes and 
prairies no more, but you will join me, and together we 
will hunt and smoke in that better land where no white 
man can enter.’ Such were his words,— then he vanished 
like a thin mist, and I saw him no more ; but I know that 
he is waiting for me, and that ere long I shall go to him.’’ 

“ What is all that he is saying ? It seems a very long 
explanation,” said the Commissioner, a little impatiently. 


388 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS.- 


He says he is tired of answering questions such as he 
is not well able to understand/’ replied Miss McGregor. 

I will try once more, and if he is still indisposed to be 
communicative, you will have, I fear, to accept such an- 
swers as I can myself give you.” Then, addressing the 
Red Bird, “Ho not give way, I entreat you, to such 
gloomy fancies.” 

“ They are not gloomy, Espanola. Heath to me is better 
than life.” 

“Ah 1 you make me unhappy — my heart is breaking, 
while I am forced to wear a smiling face. Will you not 
let me work in hope for your deliverance? Wau-nig- 
sootsh-kah, Ar-nee-noa,'*^ it rests with yourself whether 
your future is life and happiness, or the dark and silent 
grave.” 

“ For your sake I will look forward in hope,” said the 
young chief ; “ but go from me now. I cannot bear the 
eyes of that man fixed upon me and scanning me as if I 
were a cougar caught in a pitfall. Tell him I will speak 
no more — tell him I wish to smoke in silence. It may be 
that I shall see you after we get to Tee-pee-sau-kee. Your 
priest will come to convert me, and will perhaps call you 
to his aid — this is the way of them. Farewell.” And 
again he turned his gaze to the western sky. 

Miss McGregor explained to the Commissioner what 
she termed the reluctance of the prisoner to answer any 
further questions, and together they left the neighborhood 
of the little tent — ^the young lady continuing, though with 
an unwilling mind, to answer to the best of her ability the 
questions propounded by the Commissioner upon what he 
termed the “history and ethnology” of the Ho-tshung- 
rahs. 


♦ My own. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 389 

As she passed the miserable and squalid Wee-kau, he 
looked np at her with an imploring air. 

“ P’haa-zha-nee-nah tshoonsh-koo-nee-noh,^’* he said. 

Miss McGregor shook her head. 

“ P’haa-zha-nee-nah woank-hah p’hee-nee-noh/’*!* 
said, and the face of the savage grew more dark and 
scowling at her answer. 

“ Bless my heart I what a strange, guttural language !” 
said the Commissioner. ^‘Was he threatening you, or 
any of us ? Dear me! who would have thought that he 
was merely bidding you good-evening ?” said the Commis- 
sioner, meditatively. 


CHAPTER LIII. 

Captain Lytle had been waiting with impatience for 
the termination of the task Miss McGregor had undertaken. 
He wished the Commissioner in his Eastern home, if not 
in some far less cool an(Lcomfortable place ; and he could 
not refrain from joining the young lady and her attendant 
before they quite reached the scene of the evening’s 
repast. 

Madeleine and M. Tremblay had already taken their 
leave, so there was no excuse for Miss McGregor to linger. 
Much as she shrank from the explanation which she knew 
was awaiting her, there seemed nothing but to have it 
over and done with ; so, having paid her parting compli- 
ments to Mrs. Smart and the rest of the company, she 


* “ I have got no whiskey.” (The Indian form of begging.) 
f Whiskey is not a good thing. 


390 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


accepted the escort-of Captain Lytle and set out on her 
way to their own encampment. ^ 

The captain had no uncomfortable misgivings as to the 
answer he was to receive. He had discoursed to himself 
somewhat in this fashion : “ It is best to have the thing 
settled, so that we can plan for the future. As for marry- 
ing just at present, that is, of course, out of the question. 
I shall have to write to her father — though, as she is of 
age, that will be a mere form, and I can come Out for her 
in the spring, when I shall be entitled to a furlough. 
What a eonfounded plague it is, people’s living so far out 
of the world ! I wonder how my mother and Eliza will 
take itl They have a good many prejudices, of one kind 
and another; but I think Monica will have shrewdness 
enough not to run counter to their little peculiarities. I 
shall have to keep the Randolphs and Pocahontas before 
their Yirginian eyes,” and so forth, and so forth. 

Thus the captain prepared himself for the interview. 

Two of the younger officers were standing at no great 
distance, engaged in amicable chat, as the couple set forth 
on their walk. The visage of Hamilton lengthened with 
curiosity, that of Gaylord shortened with humor, as they 
gazed upon the retreating figures. 

“ What’s up now ?” said the former. “ That looks a 
little particular.” 

“ The gentleman is going to catch something more than 
he has bargained for ; — that is all,’’ remarked the latter. 

“ You don’t think she means to say no ?” 

‘‘ I reckon,” was the sententious reply. 

“Why, I’m sure she has been sweet enough towards 
him these two days.” 

“ That doesn’t mean,‘ Yes, I thank you.’ It only means, 
^Do the handsome thing by my Winnebago sweetheart.’ ” 

“Well, from what I know of Lytle, I predict that if 


MARK LOOANy TEE BOURGEOIS. 


391 


Miss McGregor does not say, ‘Yes, I thank you,’ the 
thing that will be done towards Mr. Red Bird will be any- 
thing but handsome.” 

“ Very likely,” said Gaylord. “ It will be easy enough 
to tell.by-and-by what she has said. Lytle has been 
pluming himself like a peacock of late — it will be hard for 
him to help showing it if he happens unfortunately to be 
turned, into a wet duck.” 

Meanwhile the couple under discussion walked on. 
They were hardly out of ear-shot when Captain Lytle 
began, — 

“You cannot, I think, be unaware of my motive in 
petitioning you to accept my escort this evening ?” His 
tone was soft, but it was not timid. “ I have not attempted 
to disguise my feelings of admiration, my ” 

Miss McGregor cut him short. It was better, she 
thought, that they should come to a right understanding 
at once. 

“No, Captain Lytle, I will not pretend to deny that I 
have perceived those feelings ; you have characterized 
them rightly; they have been those of admiration, — no- 
thing more. You have struggled perseveringly against 
them. Believe me, it is a matter of sincere regret to me 
that you have not done so more successfully.” 

There was a fierceness in the glance of Captain Lytle, 
yet he strove to repress any harshness in his tone, as he 
exclaimed, “ You surely cannot intend to insult a man 
who offers you his hand, his whole life, by calling his affec- 
tion in question? I do not think I have deserved this. 
Can you imagine that I would address you as I do, upon 
the mere idle preference that beauty and fascinating man- 
ners can win ? Perhaps,” he said, in a milder accent, “ I 
chose my words badly. Let us say nothing of admiration. 
We have been too long -and too constantly in each other’s 


392 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


society for you to really doubt the nature of my sentiments. 
You say that you have perceived them, such as they are; 
and have you not — do not mistake me again ; I would not 
say anything presumptuous — but have you not given me 
reason to believe that my devotion was not disagreeable 
to you 

Monica could not deny the impeachment. Captain 
Lytle had put his case in its best form, and he had really 
shown more sensibility than she gave him credit for pos- 
sessing. His dismissal was a more difficult task than she 
had foreseen. She was embarrassed for a reply. She 
had, in fact, nothing to say but that “ she couldn’t and 
she wouldn’t.’’ She had no resource but to stick to her 
first text. 

I think, and you must not be angry with me if I say 
it, that it is only within the last two days that you have 
cared so much, that you have been so much in earnest in 

this matter. Before that time ” She stopped. Was 

she not admitting that she had watched him, and taken 
note of his feelings and intentions? 

“Well,” he said, seizing upon the hint, “before that 
time, what ? Cannot Miss McGregor understand that a 
man may feel diffident of exposing himself to rejection on 
the ground of too great precipitancy ? What right had I 
to annoy you until I had some faint hope that I was not 
altogether indifferent to you? You were peculiarly situ- 
ated — on a journey, without father or brother. It would 
perhaps have been my duty to have delayed still longer, 
but I could not part with 3’'OU without knowing my fate — 
therefore I have ventured to speak.” 

As is often the case, by dint of pleading. Captain Lytle 
had worked himself up to quite a respectable pitch of 
tenderness, which made it the more difficult for Monica to 
say, as she did with some compunction, — 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


393 


“ I am sorry if my manner deceived you. I hope you 
will not suffer yourself to feel greatly disappointed. It 
would be no kindness to accept your addresses when I 
cannot return the affection you’’— she was going to say 
profess — “ which you offer me.” 

There was a momentary hesitation, which he misinter- 
preted. 

“And why can you not return it — in time? for I will not 
hurry your decision. It is impossible that there can be 
any sentiment of dislike towards me ; your manner has 
shown the contrary too plainly. I must say that much, 
in justice to myself. I will not despair unless assured 
that there is some happier man — yet that I will not be- 
lieve. You would not in that case have suffered me to. 
delude myself with hopes which you must have been aware 
of. You would not — you could not — have treated me thus. 
Say that I may hope — it is all that I ask.” 

“ Yo, I must not say that,” replied Miss McGregor. “ I 
must leave no room for further misunderstanding. I can- 
not marry you, Captain Lytle ; but, if it will be any com- 
fort or satisfaction to you, I can assure you solemnly that 
I shall never marry another. I do not ask you now to 
forgive the pain I may have caused you. I know that you 
will do so by-and-by — perhaps you will even rejoice that 
my answer to you was what it is.” 

She held out her hand to him, for they had arrived at a 
spot where it seemed most appropriate to separate. Cap- 
tain Lytle did not take it. 

“ We part friends, I hope ?” she said. 

The captain lifted his shako, bowed, and turned away 
without a word.' Rage and mortification were in his 
heart. He had been trifled with, jilted, and by one whom, 
in his heart, he had thought it a condescension to address. 
And the worst of it was that, in his triumph, he bad made 


394 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


it abundantly evident to his military comrades that he 
felt himself thoroughly established in the good graces of 
the beautiful metive. 

“Was it a premeditated plan of hers,’’ he asked himself, 
“ to punish me for not falling at her feet and offering to 
run my neck into the noose as precipitately as Dalton did ? 

Yery likely. The whole race is as treacherous as 

Or Was it” — and the blood leaped fiercer in his veins^ — 
“ was it in order to find a pretext for holding converse 
with that bloodthirsty young Puan yonder that she led me 
on to make a fool of myself?” The captain ground his teeth 
in rage. “A fool? Yes, I was, a double-distilled fool, to 
trust one of that blood. Was she not own cousin to an 
assassin ? And I could forget that I I will remember it 
hereafter I” 


CHAPTER LIY. 

Miss McGregor returned to the camp of her own party 
in an uncomfortable frame of mind. 

The gloomy forebodings of Wau-nig-sootsh-kah weighed 
upon her spirits, even in spite of the precepts of her Church 
which forbade superstition, and in defiance of her own 
arguments with which she had sought to encourage him. 

The thoughts, too, of her treatment of Captain Lytle — - 
the mortification, to call it by no severer name, that she 
had caused him — were anything but enlivening. It was in 
vain that she said to herself, “ I have but served him as 
he was ready at one time to serve me.” Her conscience 
told her that her premeditated deceit was far more heinous 
than her admirer’s vacillation of purpose. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


395 


She was in that state of feeling that she was ready to 
find a grief in whatever presented itself. 

As she passed along on her way to the “ladies’ boat,” 
slie observed Michaud with a quarter Of venison before 
him on the grass, from which he was instructing his adju- 
tant, a young mangeur de lard, to cut some steaks properly 
for the next morning’s breakfast. 

“ Ah I du chevreuil ! Ou I’avez-vous trouve, Michaud ?”* 
she asked. 

“ Je compte b’an que c’estle Courte-Oreille, le Loup, qui 
I’a apporte,”f was the response. 

“ Le Loup ? You must be mistaken. We parted with 
him at noon,, up the river. How could he have come here 
without my knowledge ? And where is he now ?” 

“ Pas capab’ vous dire,”J said the old Frenchman, with 
a shrug of the shouldors. He had seen the Ottawa with 
his own eyes, but he Avould not contradict his demoiselle 
when she averred that he must be mistaken. 

“ Have you seen anything of Moaway ?” said Miss Mc- 
Gregor, addressing her next question to her sister. 

“ Yes, I saw him for a few minutes.” 

“ What brought him here ? What did he want, that he 
should come and go in that mysterious manner?” 

“ I did not ask him what he wanted. He answered the 
questions I did ask.” 

“ Questions about what ?” 

There was a little sharpness in Miss McGregor’s tone, 
notwithstanding that she had, since, her interview with 
Tshah-nee-kah, decided that a condescending and, if pos- 
sible, an affectionate manner towards her sister would be 
the most politic. 

Ah ! venison ? Where did you get it, Michaud ? 
f I think it was the Ottawa, the Wolf, who brought it. 
j Can’t tell you. 


396 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


inquired of him what the Red Bird had done with 
the beautiful dress and ornaments that he wore yesterday.” 

Miss McGregor changed color. It was a question that, 
before all others, she longed to ask. 

“ Well, what did he say?” 

“ That when some one of his own people placed in his 
tent a suit of the ordinary Indian costume, the Red Bird 
laid aside his beautiful garments, folded them carefully into 
a package, and sent them by a messenger to his village at 
the Four Lakes, to his wife, Way-noo-nah.” 

The gloom deepened on Monica’s countenance. Made- 
leine observed it with consternation. She could under- 
stand that an early attachment might bring upon her sister 
a tremendous shock at the unexpected transactions of 
yesterday ; but she could not reconcile it to her sense 
of right that the mention of the Red Bird’s wife should 
call up such an expression. She hoped that she had mis- 
construed it. 

“ I suppose he considered this present a final leave- 
taking,” she pursued. “ Moa-way said that if she were a 
Chippewa woman she would carry it in her arms, like an 
infant, a whole year, and never be separated from it — that 
is, in case the Red Bird were condemned and lost his life.” 

“ Wau-nig-sootsh-kah is not condemned yet, and he may 
not, most likely will not, lose his life,” said Monica, almost 
angrily ; and she turned from her sister to seek information 
from another source. 

“Mr. Logan, do you know anything about the Ottawa, 
Moa-way? He has been here, they tell me. You may 
recollect we parted with him at noon, where we gave the 
men so long a pipe.” 

“ Yes. Michaud tells me he brought part of a deer as a 
present, and he gave him a pan of flour in return. I saw 
him, if I am not mistaken, talking awhile with your sister. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 39t 

I will inquire among the men if he is still in the neighbor- 
hood.” 

Thus the bourgeois evaded a direct answer. He could 
not inform Miss McGregor what Moa-way’s errand had 
actually been, nor would he have felt disposed to repeat 
to her the following conversation, which had taken place 
between the Ottawa and himself 

“ Le Roux will be content to see his little daughter 
again 1” Moa-way had begun, in an indifferent tone. 

Logan was not ignorant that Mr. McGregor passed 
among the Puans by the name of Nar-zee-kah, the yellow- 
haired, a sobriquet exaggerated by the motives into Le 
Roux. 

“ Yes, doubtless he will be very happy. They have been 
separated for three years,” was the young man’s reply. 

“He had better have left her on the other side of the 
Great Lakes for yet another year,” remarked the Ottawa. 

“ You mean on account of these Indian troubles ?” asked 
Logan. 

“ Not of the troubles that are gone, but of those that are 
to come.” 

“ Will the tribes band together, do you think, and make 
a general outbreak?” 

“ They are not. such fools.” 

“What then? Will the Winnebagoes make a descent 
upon the Prairie with the hope of rescuing L’Oiseau 
Rouge ? The garrison is strong, and is to be still further 
reinforced.” 

“ They will attempt no such scheme. The chiefs of the 
nation would not listen to it.” 

“ What, then, do you fear ? Against what danger are 
you warning me ?” For the young man saw plainly that 
it was not without design that his companion had given 
this turn to the conversation. 

34 


398 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS: 

A bird has been singing in my ears that there are some 
who do not love the little one too well.” 

‘‘ Good heavens I Some among. the savages ?” 

The Ottawa shrugged his shoulders in a fashion that he 
had acquired along with his reading, religion, and other 
items of civilization while domesticated with Father Sylvan. 

It did not enlighten the young man, who looked at him 
anxiously. 

“ If you know of any danger which threatens her,” he 
said, “if you have any better foundation for the caution 
you give me than vague, surmises, you ought surely to tell 
me, that I may with double care watch over and shield 
one whom I — whom we all ” 

“ You will watch over her, by night and by day,” said 
Moa-way. 

“ But if I only had a hint of the quarter whence danger 
is to come! I shall not relax my vigilance during her 
waking hours. At night, it. must be rather her sister. 
Shall I warn Miss McGregor ?” 

The Ottawa again gave his peculiar shrug. 

“ Does the Puan blood in her veins bind the two sisters 
the more strongly to each other ?” he asked. “ Kah-ween.’’^ 

“ You surely cannot think it possible,” said the young 
man, in alarm, “ that Mau-nee-kah would lend herself to 
any scheme for her sister’s hurt ?” 

Moa-way, though bent on securing a watchful protection 
for the younger sister, had no intention of betraying the 
elder. Without replying to the suggestion of the bour- 
geois, he simply reiterated his former injunction: — 

“Watch over her as the dove watches over its young. 
There are birds of prey flying in the air. As long as 
L’Oiseau Rouge lies captive in the hands of the Big Knives, 
so long must you keep guard, and never sleep save with one 
eye open.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


399 


“Will they attempt her life?” asked the young man, 
hardly able from agitation to utter the question. 

“ They have had enough of blood,” said Moa-way. 
“ What they want now is to save life, not to take it.” 

It was in vain that the bourgeois plied him with ques- 
tions. He sat and smoked, occasionally answering, in his 
vernacular, “Kah-ween kee-ken-don !” or, in the patois of 
the country, “Pas capab’ vous dire,” till Logan gave up 
in despair. After a short interval, the Ottawa gave him 
the information that the troops under General Atkinson 
were encamped at a very short distance below them,— so 
short, that the two commands would be sure to meet on 
the following morning. 

The bourgeois at once, dispatched a messenger with the 
news to Colonel Bentley, thus securing himself against any 
hindrance to the prosecution of his voyage at as early an 
hour as might suit him on the next day. He must hasten 
on his way ; for he could not feel at ease until he should find 
himself with his precious charge safe out of the Ho-tshung- 
rah country and under the guns of Fort Crawford. 


CHAPTER LY. 

Down the glassy stream, while “^Aurora” was; still in 
her “ robe of cramasy” and cape of flame,” the voyageurs 
took their way on the following morning ; and so well did 
they ply their oars, that, before thby had begun to dream 
of their second pipe, the clarion voice of old Michaud was 
heard, “ArracbeM arrache’I on arrive, nos gens — wboop- 
Ik pour le Petit Rocher !”♦ and presently after, — 


* Pull away, men ; we are nearly at the Little Rock ! 


400 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


Le voil^ I whoop ! whoop I mais, sacr^ mon diable I 
comrae il 7 a du monde l^basl”'*' 

Already had the vigilant eyes of the rest of the party 
descried the fleet of boats, the tents still unstruck, the 
smoke of the camp-fires rising straight in the cool morning 
air, and the groups of soldiers and militia, either moving 
or stationary, according to the behests of their officers. 

The United States flag was flying from the mast of the 
most imposing among the barges of the squadron ; while 
the tents still standing, late as was the hour, told unmis- 
takably that the commander had preferred not to move 
until he had made sure of a comfortable breakfast. 

As the Company’s boats approached, their shouts of 
salutation were answered by a “ whoop ! whoop 1 whoop 1 ” 
so loud and shrill that Madeleine instinctively sprang from 
her seat. 

“Ah I” she cried, “ I know that shout I Monica, that is 
our father’s voice ! And look, look 1 there — standing on 
the bank a little this side of the boats 1 It is papa ! it 
surely is papa I Oh, do tell them to make haste I” She 
clasped her hands, her eyes filled with tears of emotion 
and delight. 

“ Yes, that is surely my father,” said Miss McGregor, 
calmly, “ and he is looking out for us.” 

In spite of her sister’s remonstrances, Madeleine, aided 
by the bourgeois, mounted to a conspicuous position upon 
a bench between two of the rowers, whence she could wave 
her handkerchief in token of recognition and welcome. 

The boats had soon approached so near as. to be able to 
turn in towards the bank and allow the master to come on 
board, when the loving parent and child were once more 
clasped in each other’s embrace. 


*• There it is ; but, the deuce ! how many people there are there ! 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 401 

“ And Monica, my daughter, how are you ? I am glad 
to see you back again,” her father said, as he took his 
elder daughter by the hand and kissed her cheek. 

“lam quite well, I thank you, sir,” was Monica’s quiet 
reply, as she mentally contrasted the reception of her sis- 
I ter and herself, without remembering that Madeleine had 
been absent three years, and she but as many months, 
i “ Ever the same — the one idolized, the other overlooked 

; and wellnigh forgotten !” she said, bitterly, to herself. 

! Mr. McGregor was a stalwart, finely-made man, with a 
broad clear brow, piercing gray eyes, and hair which had 
been of a warm auburn tint, but was now softened by 
time into a rich brown, among the crisp curls of which 
I threads of silver were already quite visible. His slightly 
1 aquiline nose and short upper lip, disclosing when he 
spoke, and more particularly when he smiled, teeth of 
great fairness and regularity, made his face a very pleasant 
I one to look upon. There was much in its expression that 
was genial ; though a furrow between his eyebrows spoke 
of habits of deep thought, — thought not always of a cheer- 
ful character. 

Now, no feelings save those of happiness beamed from 
his eyes, and he received the young bourgeois, whom 
Monica hastened to present to him, with a degree of 
courtesy which surprised the latter, accustomed as she. was 
to his rather distant manner towards those in his employ. 

“You have brought my children safely home to me, 
sir,” he said; “and that is a far greater merit than even 
your excellent care of the boats and their cargoes. After 
a time you shall give me the details of your expedition. 
It seems to have been entirely satisfactory as concerns our 
interests, and extremely creditable to yourself.” 

Mr. McGregor then seated himself under the awning of 
the little cabin beside his daughters, the bourgeois remain- 
34 * 


402 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


ing at no great distance, whether pleased or not with her 
father’s commendations Monica could not determine. 

The questions and answers upon subjects of immediate 
personal interest among the trio were followed by little 
items of general information, among which Mr. McGregor 
suddenly remarked, — 

By-the-by, Mallie, I had a letter from your friend Mr. 
Lindsay about ten days ago. It came by the way of St. 
Louis.” 

“ From Mr. Lindsay ?” said Madeleine. “ What did he 
write about ?” 

“ No complaint about you, child,” said her father, laugh- 
ing. “ Why do you look so frightened ?” Moniqa fixed her 
keen eyes upon her sister ; then she glanced at Logan, to 
see if he were within ear-shot On this point she could 
not satisfy herself ; the young man seemed busily jotting 
down memoranda in a book which he held in his hand. 

‘‘ I do not feel frightened — I^m sure I don’t know why 
I should,” said Madeleine, with a little, embarrassed laugh. 
‘‘But please tell me what the letter was about.” 

“ Well, if you do not feel frightened, my darling, you are 
in a more tranquil frame of mind than our good friend 
Lindsay was at the date of his letter. I should judge 
that Winuebagoes, Sioux, Chippewas, Sauks and Foxes, 
Omahas, Pawnees, and lowas were all at, that very mo- 
ment knocking at the gates of Quebec. It was with him 
‘ the Indians, and the Indians, and the Indians I’ ” 

“ Poor Mr. Lindsay 1 what can have put him in such a 
taking ?” said Madeleine. 

“ Why, M. Rivaud, who, as you mentioned in your letter, 
had been at the Bay, returned with a fearful account of 
horrors and atrocities committed on the frontier. Ac- 
cording to him, the greater part of the savages were 
engaged daily in scalping, tomahawking, and torturing; 


MARK LOGAN, TUB BOURGEOIS. 


403 


and this, it seems, has set poor Lindsay almost frantic. 
The thing that puzzles me is to understand what it is 
all about. Have you so wound yourself about his heart, 
my little one, that all this solicitude is on your account ? 
He entreats, he implores me — I quote his very words — to 
send him word what the state of the country really is — 
whether the more distant trading-posts up the Mississippi 
and the Missouri will be exposed to peculiar peril — whether 
parties going out, say in the direction of the Yellow Stone 
or Red River, will be in danger of falling victims to roving 
bands, who are taking advantage of the general excite- 
^ment. I was not aware that Lindsay at the present time 
i had any interest in'either of the FUr Companies; indeed, 

; 1 am sure he has not ; and -yet, if his whole fortune were 
; at stake, he could hardly enjoin it on me more solemnly 
and emphatically to send him some word that may put 
his mind at ease. I cannot understand it-^it is so unlike 
; him.” 

“ I hope you wrote to put him out of suspense.” 

“ I answered his letter immediately, but he would hardly 
get my reply in less than a month. I told him juSt how 
things were— that murders had been committed — that the 
’ Government had demanded from the Winncbagoes the sur- 
I render of those concerned in the recent outrages — that, in 
I case of their failure to comply, there would probably be 
war all through the country, .one tribe taking up arms in 
aid of another, or else seizing upon this juncture as a 
favorable one for wreaking vengeance for wrongs of their 
own. Rut I told him that our outposts would be in no 
danger — that there would be friendly Indians to warn the 
people in case of a threatened outbreak, and enable them 
to ‘ get in' in time. He knows, too, that the traders at the 
remote posts generally ally themselves by marriage with 
some one of the neighboring tribes, and that their interests 


404 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


become so identified that they and their engages would, 
in any case, be perfectly safe.’’ 

“ I don’t suppose Mr. Lindsay cares particularly about 
the traders,” remarked Madeleine. 

“ Is his anxiety about you, then ? I wrote him that you 
had been detained at the Bay, as I had then just learned 
by your letter which an Indian brought me, along with 
one from Mr. Logan, from the Portage.” 

“ It is very easy to account for Mr. Lindsay’s solicitude,” 
put in Miss McGregor. “ His son Malcolm has left his 
home clandestinely, and doubtless his father is afraid he 
may have taken a trip into the Indian territory.” 

Run away from his home ? If I were his father, I 
should let him run and take a taste of hardships till he was 
glad to return home and ask pardon. What possible reason, 
or, rather, what possible excuse, could the boy have for 
such a step ?” 

Madeleine was silent. Miss McGregor apparently saw 
no reason for imitating her sister’s reticence — she hastened 
to say, — 

“ I believe young Lindsay had every justification. I 
have heard it said, by those who should know, that his 
father was harsh and tyrannical, and, in fact, chased his 
son from his house.” 

‘‘ Astonishing 1 That alters the case. It is but just, then, 
that the father should suffer a good degree of anxiety, 
which it is evident he does. I am afraid that time and 

good luck have not improved ” He stopped short, as 

the bourgeois, who had now completed transferring his 
memoranda to his note-book, approached with the in- 
quiry whether it would be the pleasure of Mr. McGregor 
that the boats should proceed, or whether he should order 
them tied up to await the arrival of the military party 
from above. 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


405 


Oh, we will wait, by all means,” said Mr. McGregor, 
rising. “ I should not like to depart without having 
shaken hands with my old friend Colonel Bentley. And, 
truth to tell, I should have no objection to giving a piece 
of my mind to our Winnebago ” He stopped sud- 

denly, remembering the feelings of one of his listeners. 

“ And in the mean time,” he said, hurriedly, “ I will go 
ashore and speak to the clerks and the men. How neat 
and orderly they all look I The whole concern does you 
great credit, Mr. Logan. Halloo I has that young fellow 
gone ashore already ? He seems as agile as a squirrel I 
There he is now, round by the farthest boat I And you say 
he has taken good care of you ? You have come through 
a perilous ordeal, my dear- children. If I had known half 
the dangers that have beset your path, I should have been 
still more unhappy than I have been.” 

Madeleine’s smile beamed with affection ; her sister’s 
brow was lowering and her lips compressed ; her father’s 
tone and manner in speaking of the Red Bird rankled. 


CHAPTER LYI. 

M. Tremblay had vanished after the first few words of 
greeting exchanged with Mr. McGregor. He had wan- 
dered off to the camp to make acquaintance with the 
strange officers, and to take an observation of all that 
might be going on. In his little gossip he imparted one 
item which led to prompt action on the part of General 
Atkinson, who at once countermanded the order already 
given for starting, and held himself in readiness to receive 


406 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 

Colonel Bentley and his prisoners on the spot where he 
then was. 

But a couple of hours elapsed before the expected boats 
came sweeping down, with flags flying, arms and uniforms 
glittering in the sun ; and as the band, with keenest en- 
thusiasm, played the inspiring Yankee Doodle, and the 
oars of the rowers kept time to the strain, the scene was 
animated and gay beyond what those solitary waters had 
ever before witnessed. The little fleet passed and saluted, 
then, turning, headed in to a point near where the Com- 
pany’s boats lay*. 

The two young ladies were seated under the canopy of 
their little saloon. Madeleine would fain have remained 
there until the moment of their departure ; Monica was 
divided between her wish- to look once more on Wau-nig- 
sootsh-kah, and her reluctance to encounter Captain Lytle. 

The former prevailed. When her father presently re- 
turned with a proposal that they should walk with him to 
the encampment of the general, and witness the manner 
ill which that officer should receive the prisoners, the elder 
sister sprang up with alacrity, and, there being no reason 
that she could assign for remaining behind with only the 
society of the engages who were to guard the boat, Made- 
leine followed her example. 

Colonel Bentley’s men were speedily formed in two 
lines, between which he walked as he approached the 
general, taking the lead, while Wau-nigssootsh-kah and 
Wee-kau followed, and the aides-de-camp brought up the 
rear. General Atkinson, with a discontented scowl, sur- 
veyed the whole proceedings. 

“ One would think they were prisoners of war about 
being transferred from one station to another,” he grum- 
bled. ‘‘Just like Bentley! He must have a parade and 
a spectacle upon all occasions.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


40t 


When the latter had, with some little ‘‘ pomp and cir- 
cumstance” of language, presented the young chief as “ a 
person who had surrendered himself to meet the judgment 
of his Great Father the President, hoping thereby to save 
his people from all visitation for the olfences of which he 
and his fellow-prisoner were accused,” the reply of the 
general was couched in terms by no means corresponding 
in magniloquence. 

“ 1 do not understand,” he said, “ why criminals, mur- 
derers of such an atrocious character, are suffered to go 
in this manner, with the free use of their limbs, and every 
facility afforded them for making good their escape^ I 
shall take the liberty, in the first place, of putting any 
such chance out of their power. They should have been 
in irons from the very - outset. That is an observance 
under the civil law, in regard to murderers, and I see no 
reason why it should be omitted by us.” . 

“I thought them ; sufiSciently guarded by the vigilant 
watch we have kept over them, and by the parole given 
by the Red Bird.” 

“I much prefer, for my own part, trusting to fetters 
and handcuffs rather than to the parole of such very slip- 
pery gentlemen,” remarked the general, with a signal to a 
functionary who stood a little in the rear, “ One of your 
aides, colonel, will act as special provost-marshal for the 
occasion, while we make sure that nothing is left to the 
honor of such uncertain characters.” 

It did not escape Miss McGregor that Captain Lytle 
made a slight movement forward at these words. She 
did not believe it “was simply through Curiosity to witness 
more clearly the whole proceeding. It had the effect to 
make him conspicuous, and naturally occasioned his being 
called upon -to attend to the order for manacling, the 
prisoners. 


408 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


The look of horror and astonishment with which the 
young chief regarded the approach of the soldiers charged 
with the execution of this duty, can only be conceived by 
those who understand the degradation which the loss of 
bodily freedom implies with the red man. He looked 
around appealingly, though he uttered not a word. Sud- 
denly his eye lighted on Ewing, who stood within speak- 
ing-distance. 

“ Tell them,” said he, in Chippewa, “that I do not wish 
to be put in irons. I shall not sneak away — I have given 
my word. Am I a dog 

The young gentleman interpreted the brief speech of 
the Red Bird. 

“ Inform him, if you please, that he will have to sub- 
mit,” said the general, curtly. “ It is the custom of our 
people to put those in restraint who fall upon and attempt 
the lives of women and children.” 

Ewing softened the harshness of the language, but the 
act by which the dialogue was followed was susceptible 
of no amelioration. The bitterness of the spectacle was 
enhanced tenfold to Miss McGregor by discerning, as she 
fancied, a gleam of triumph in the eyes of Captain Lytle 
as he superintended the placing of the manacles on the 
hands of the two prisoners. 

“This is my work!” she said to herself. “It is Lytle 
who, in revenge towards me, has suggested this indig- 
nity.” 

She turned away, and signed to M. Tremblay to'give her 
the support of his arm. 

“ I will walk back to the boat, if you have no objection, 
sir,” she said to her father. “ This is an unexpected cere- 
mony, and one which I would rather be spared.” 

“ Yes, certainly, let us all go,” said Madeleine. And the 
expression of her wish was sufficient for her father, who 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 409 

turned and accompanied them, beckoning the bourgeois as 
he passed. 

“ Will you have the goodness,” he said, “ as soon as 
they get through with these poor fellows, to let one of 
your men get my valise, which is in Captain Reid’s tent, 
and bring it to the boat ? After that we will all get on 
board and set our faces down the river. The sooner the 
better.” 

He took Monica’s arm tenderly under his own, and 
walked with her towards the boat. 

“ It will only be for a time,” he said. “ Wau-nig-sootsh- 
kah must bear it like a hero. If they acquit him of actual 
murder, as seems most likely, he will be released, and a 
free man again.” 

Miss McGregor was not consoled by these words of her 
father. The very act she had just witnessed would have 
robbed her of all faith in the justice of the white man 
where the Indian is concerned ; and its effect was to 
strengthen her resolution to do all, and brave all, to secure 
a hostage by means of whom she could compel that 
clemency which by other means she could never hope to 
attain. 

She was glad to hear her father suggest an immediate 
departure. She did not wish to see again one of her late 
companions. She would have been glad to know that she 
should never again be called upon to speak to an officer of 
the Government she hated; she loathed the thought of 
communion with those capable of acts so cruel, so tyran- 
nical. 

“ Far better, far better,” she said, in the bitterness of her 
spirit, “ to dwell in the wild woods with the noble in heart, 
the generous, the tender, and the true, than to share the 
luxuries of a civilization which sanctions, if it does not 
teach, craft, and meanness, and injustice I” 

35 


410 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Miss McGregor did not pause to ask herself whether it 
was from the precepts of a Christian civilization that she 
had learned all that she had practised against Captain 
Lytle, — all that she was plotting against one still more in- 
offensive. Indeed, she had no time for solf-investigation, 
for the officers, who had been so long their compagnons de 
voyage, now came flocking to make their farewell saluta- 
tions. 

Mr. Stafford was silent and pensive. He had discern- 
ment sufficient to convince him, ere this, that his suit to 
the pretty Madeleine would be unavailing, and he had de- 
termined to restrain himself from any noticeable manifesta- 
tion of tenderness in his leave-taking. Still, he could not 
help wondering whether the object of his passion would 
care if she knew how unhappy he was, and, upon the 
whole, he thought he would like to satisfy himself that she 
did not see him take leave with perfect indifference. There 
was a good-natured concurrence on the part of his brother 
officers, by which he was left free to say his last words, — 
a measure they accomplished by thronging around the 
elder sister, much to her annoyance, and by pouring forth 
volubly to Mr. McGregor all the news,. gossip, and specu- 
lation as to future events, which they could call into their 
service. 

Miss McGregor kept up the ball of conversation less out 
of amiable feeling than from motives of policy. She saw 
that Logan was at no great distance, — in fact, within hear- 
ing of most that was going on. If he should become a 
little jealous of Stafford, it might be the easier for her to 
wind herself into his confidence, and so obtain a power 
over him which could be made available in the future. 
Monica never overlooked a strand, a filament in the net 
she was weaving. 

The young lieutenant had gathered a bouquet of the 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 4U 

various wild flowers that grew in profusion near their 
encampment. They were, for the most part, more brilliant 
than fragrant; yet he had been so, fortunate as to find iu^ 
sequestered nook one little prairie-rose-— a flower whose 
sweetness is unsurpassed- in the gardens of Persia. 

“ The last rose of summer I’’ he said. “ Will you allow 
me to offer it to you as a souvenir of the past happy 
weeks ?” then lowering his voice, ‘‘ weeks that I have 
found only too delightful.” He doubted whether the young 
lady understood his meaning, for she showed no conscious- 
ness ; she only said, courteously, — 

Oh I thank you, Mr. Stafford; ‘ The , last rose of sum- 
mer,’ but it did not bloom alone. What lovely companions I 
They are, I am sorry to say, scentless, though not made 
so by death. I will try and preserve them alive, instead 
of scattering them as the poet kindly did.” 

Stafford, having made a beginning, felt impelled, spite 
of his good resolution, to venture another stroke. 

“ There is no help for it. We have to turn our faces 
towards the Portage, and that before another hour. ‘ IIow 
many deaths are in that word farewell P ” 

There was another upon whose ear the words, softly as 
they were spoken, fell. 

“ As the young man has not a volume of ‘ Glorious John’ 
with him,” said Logan to himself, “ he has that quotation 
by heart. That shows that he has been in love before, 
— consequently, this farewell will not contain a great many 
deaths to him.” And this conviction was a comfort to the 
generous heart of the fortunate rival. 

Captain Lytle did not come to say good-by. He was, 
or affected to be, too much occupied in the service of the 
general to quit his marquee. 

The adieus of Captain Lovel were accompanied by a 
hearty '‘Au revoir. I dare say my company will be 


412 MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

ordered to Fort Crawford before winter sets in ; and if I 
can persuade Miss Latimer to come over to the Mississippi 
with us, I shall certainly do so.” 

The latter promise was made not so much for Madeleine^s 
benefit as for that of Mr. Ewing, who had been invited to 
' form one of Mr. McGregor’s party for the remainder of 
the voyage. 


CHAPTER LYII. 

Thij mansion of Mr. McGregor had in former years 
oeen the abode of a frank and unbounded hospitality. A 
period of more quiet existence had succeeded, during which 
Madame PEspagnole, as she was usually called, had sunk 
under the pressure of ill health, or dicouragement, as 
her French neighbors were wont to express it, and finally 
ceased to exist. The latter event occurred about a year 
after the younger daughter left home for her school in 
Quebec. 

Various stories were whispered as to the cause of this 
“decouragement.” The older settlers, if questioned upon 
the subject, admitted that it was only within a certain 
number of years that a Christian marriage had united the 
handsome, stately Madame McGregor with her husband ; 
and there were those who hinted that, be that as it might, 
Madame I’Espagnole had lived at the head of McGregor’s 
establishment long years before, and that it was during 
that period that the elder daughter was born. 

It was also generally understood that a season had in- 
tervened in which Madame I’Espagnole had gone back to 
her people on the Upper Mississippi, and that some years 


MARK LOG AN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


413 


elapsed before she returned again to her former lord ; also, 
that her return and her marriage were both subsequent to 
the birth of the second daughter. 

In the years of her first sojourn McGregor did not re- 
side at the Prairie. His trading-establishment was at 
Koshkonong, on the Rocky River, as it was then called ; 
and as that post was far aside from any thoroughfare of 
travel, — no white foot, save his own and those of his 
Canadian engages, ever pressing the soil, — it was difficult 
for the most prying and curious to unravel the sort of 
mystery which hung around this part of the history of the 
proud and well-favored Scotsman. “ Robertson, who lived 
at the Prairie before the war, knew,” it was said, “all 
about McGregor’s affairs ; but Robertson was dead many a 
long year ago.” 

“ Madame J arrot could probably tell if she would, for 
she was godmother to Monica, and the bosom friend of 
Madame PEspagnole; but Madame Jarrot was herself of 
the race, and as close-mouthed as if she had not a drop of 
French blood in her veins.” 

That McGregor had in process of time acquired or in- 
herited a fortune sufficient to enable him to purchase a 
partnership in the Fur Company under its new organiza- 
tion was patent to all ; and on his having settled himself at 
the Prairie, and thus laid himself open to speculation from 
those around, no further facts were arrived at than that 
Madame PEspagnole could never have been the veritable 
mother of the fair and delicate little girl who called her 
“ mama,” while that McGregor was her father was decided 
to be a point beyond question. 

Who, then, was the mother of the child ? Not the Scots- 
woman who came with her- to the Prairie at the beginning 
of the war, and who kept charge of her during the year or 
more that McGregor was absent, nobody could tell where. 

35 * 


414 MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 

No ; for Mrs. McCann and her husband returned to Scot- 
land as soon as the war had closed, and no mother would 
have left so sweet and interesting a child behind her. 

“ Might the little Madeleine, possibly, be some child stolen 
by the Indians on one of their journeys to Canada ? All 
know that the Great Sauk trail passed very near McGregor’s 
outposts. Could it be that one of the clerks, seeing this 
child in their possession, might have purchased it, and 
McGregor afterwards have taken it off his hands and 
adopted the little creature as his own ? Such things do 
happen.” 

Yet the general impression decidedly was that such a 
thing had not happened. 

Still, as there were in Mr. McGregor’s favor hospitality, 
frank-heartedness, and neighborly kindness of disposition, 
together with a lofty sort Of independence of the opinion 
of the world in general (which last, by-the-by, goes a great 
way in making black white), the simple, affectionate people 
who formed his social circle did not make it a point of 
morals to dwell too pertinaciously upon a seeming irregu- 
larity. 

“ For, after all, who was there that used to be married 
in the olden time, voyez-vous ? Was there a priest to be 
found between St. Louison and Pembinaw ? And what 
could poor people do, I ask you ? One must accommodate 
one’s self to circumstances. After the good time when 
the missionaries had come into the land, I grant you, it 
would have been wrong to give any cause for scandal. 
Let us be a little charitable, I entreat you!” 

This was the customary mantle of charity thrown over 
by-gones, and so McGregor was left in peace. 

He was, by education, by fortune, and by position, the 
great man of the place ; and, as his countenance and hos- 
pitable attentions were matters of prime importance to 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


415 


those by whom he was surrounded, the great man he must 
continue to be, spite of all that was come and gone. 

The sisters were soon settled in the enjoyment of all 
the comforts of their home and of the social success 
which beauty, pleasing manners, and reputed wealth can 
confer. Invitations to visits, boating-parties, horseback ex- 
cursions, and other merry-makings, flowed in upon them, 
not from the families of the Fort alone, but also from 
their less pretentious friends and neighbors ifl the little 
settlement. 

Monica would fain have declined them all. A life of 
quiet solitude, one even of utter seclusion, would have 
accorded best with the tone of her feelings ; but, as she had 
a purpose in view which could probably only be carried 
out by the concurrence of others, she mingled cordially 
and freely in all circles, ever on the watch for circum- 
stances that might be turned to advantage in the prosecu- 
tion of her schemes. 

The two young men Logan and Ewing were becoming 
fast friends. There was sufficient similarity between them 
in matters of taste, cultivation, and tone of feeling to make 
them congenial, and they soon established themselves 
together as room-mates at M. Tremblay^s. ■ 

Mr. McGregor, satisfied and at the same time surprised 
at the systematic supervision which all under the care of 
one so little experienced had received, had at once placed 
the young bourgeois at the head of his staff of clerks in 
the large trading-house. 

“ But he tells me he docs not understand book-keeping,’^ 
objected Donohue, the confidential agent of Mr. McGregor, 
who was in no slight degree astonished at this departure 
from the ordinary routine of promotion, 

“ What of that ? It is a matter of no consequence,” 
said his chief. “A young man who accustoms himself to 


416 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


keep the diaries and memoranda that Logan has done 
during this long and trying trip will soon make himself 
acquainted with every other part of the business. Posi- 
tively, if I had been upon the journey myself, I could not 
have had a clearer idea of its details than the journal and 
notes of this young fellow have furnished me. Really, 
Patterson exercised more than his usual judgment in se- 
lecting a person of such qualifications ; and since he is a 
countryman of your own, Donohue, you had better give 
him any little hints that may be still wanting to make him 
perfectly au fail of all belonging to his department.” 

^‘But what about communicating with the Indians? 
How will a stranger acquit himself there ?” asked the 
cautious and somewhat jealous Irishman. 

Oh, there is no doubt he will be thoroughly accom- 
plished in that line ere long. I find he has been im- 
proving himself in Chippewa — or Ottawa, which is the 
same thing — ^through his association with a Courte-Oreille 
on the route ; and then during the short time they were de- 
tained at the Portage he contrived, it seems, to take down 
quite an ample vocabulary from Lapierre and the numerous 
Winnebagoes lounging around the lodges near the trading- 
house. Besides, he will now have the advantage of a sort 
of rivalry with this young Ewing, whom the Governor 
has sent out here to learn the language and compile a 
grammar of it. A Ho-tshung-rah grammar, of all things I 
By-and-by we shall have our Puan music-books and 
dancing-masters, I suppose I” 

“ The Governor makes a clever use of his subs,” said 
Donohue, cynically. “ It reminds me of a fable I once 

read, something about some roasted chestnuts and a cat 

I forget the particulars. I should not wonder if his Ex- 
cellency should pass, ere long, for a very accomplished 
aboriginal scholar.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 4l*l 

But, although Mr. MqGregor commende.d the young 
man so emphatically, and professed such unbounded con- 
fidence in him, he did not incite him to any especial inti- 
macy in his family. It was not his custom to admit his 
clerks to a friendly association, be their merits what they 
might. People hinted that it was perhaps because he was 
afraid his daughters might become too sensible of the at- 
tractive qualities which some of the young men undeniably 
possessed. 

Logan was, except in a business point of view, in no 
wise distinguished from the other clerks. He would be 
invited with his comrades at stated holiday times, or per- 
haps to a general entertainment which included all the 
members of the social circle, old and young ; but further 
than that Mr. McGregor’s hospitalities did not extend. 

Madeleine, from her recollection of the customs in this 
respect, had had uncomfortable misgivings as to the 
change which awaited her ; and yet she had indulged a 
secret hope that hpr father might modify, in favor of one 
so worthy, something of the strictness of his ordinary 
system. 

It was not so, however ; after so long a period of inti- 
mate association, the lovers now seldom met, and then 
only under circumstances where a word or look between 
the two was scarcely possible. 

Miss McGregor speculated much on, the probable result 
of this state of things. Would .Logauj accepting as an 
inexorable fact the barrier which separated him from his 
master’s daughter, ask for his discharge and seek peace 
of mind in flight ? And would Madeleine, in dutiful con- 
sideration of her father’s wishes, resolve to conquer an at- 
tachment so objectionable to him ? If so, would she return 
to her first love, Malcolm Lindsay, whose father now 
showed symptoms of relenting ? Or would she- rather be 


418 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

won by the addresses of some one of the bachelor officers 
of superior rank, more than one of whom already seemed 
anxious to be numbered among her admirers ? 

Neither of these contingencies would suit the plans, now 
well matured, of the elder sister. Madeleine must not be 
allowed the chance of another and more watchful lover ; 
least of all must there intervene a military aspirant, who 
might plead for a prompt and immediate marriage, such 
as are no rarity in the army. It would never do to leave 
a loophole for such a possibility; for the prisoner^ had 
by this time been tried and found guilty by a civil tri- 
bunal. 

This verdict was no more than Monica had expected. 
She was aware that at the’ time of the Governor’s visit, 
some weeks after the murders were' committed, it was 
still only surmised that the marauding party had been 
Winnebagoes. Yet as, when the elder Day-kau-ray had 
subsequently been arrested and held as a hostage by the 
commander at Fort Crawford, such a panic had seized the 
tribe that somebody had got to take the blame of the 
transaction, and as Wau-uig-sootsh-kah and Wee-kau had 
been the persons to do so, it was no more than was to be 
expected (it was thus that she argued) that the memories 
of the principal witnesses should become brightened, and 
that they should recollect enough minute particulars to fix 
the guilt unquestionably on the prisoners. 

The great point now was to sustain the courage of 
the Red Bird until her plans for his release could be ac- 
complished; and these plans depended in a great measure 
on a maintenance of the existing relation^ between Logan 
and Madeleine. The flame must be kept alive in the 
bosom of both, for the one would certainly, the other prob- 
ably, be needed in the accomplishment of the project 
over which the elder sister was brooding. 


MARK LOG AN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


419 


To this end the two lovers must be vouchsafed an occa- 
sional interview, and it must be the business of the acute 
and persevering Monica to furnish the opportunities. 


CHAPTER LYIII. 

“ I think:, Madeleine, you have not been down to the 
magasin yet,” said Monica to her sister, one bright after- 
noon, about three weeks after their return. 

Madeleine started. The Company’s . magasin, as the 
store was called, at which the little world supplied itself 
with the ordinary commodities and conveniences of life, 
was in close proximity to the large warehouse in which 
Logan had his office and his sphere of duties. 

“ No,” she replied, as tranquilly as she could; “ I have 
not been there.” : 

“ Then, if you would like the walk, you had better put 
on your things and come with me. I am going there to 
look for some pale-blue beads to finish. off the moccasins I 
have begun for your friend Miss Latimer.” 

“For Grace? Moccasins for Grace? That is very 
kind of you. I did not know it was for her you were 
working — I never dreamed of such a thing.” 

“And what is there so strange in tha,t ?” said her sister, 
with an amiable smile. “ I heard her say, one day when 
we were at the Bay, that she hoped before her return 
home to get a pair as handsome as some that a Menomo- 
nee woman had sent a present to a lady at the fort ; and, 
as I consider myself at least equal to Mrs. Grisly Bear 
in the matter of fancy-work, I determined to show your 
friend a specimen of my skill.” 


420 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


This was so pleasantly said that, together with the pros- 
pect of what the walk might bring forth, it raised Made- 
leine’s spirits to a more cheerful pitch than she had felt 
for several days. She chatted merrily with her sister till 
they reached their place of destination. 

The magasin was a large establishment, the shelves and 
counters of which were heaped with a variety equal to 
that of a New England country store. The predominat- 
ing articles were, of course, such as would be sought 
after in the Indian trade, — guns, blankets, knives, stroud- 
ing, gay calicoes, boxes of silver-works, beads, and strings 
of wampum. 

Miss McGregor glanced around on entering, and there 
was a shade of disappointment and vexation upon her 
countenance as she observed that there was no cus- 
tomer present save an old, dilapidated-looking voyageur 
who was purchasing a pair of “ mitaines” for the coming 
winter. 

“ Quite a change since the former times,” she remarked 
to the young metif clerk, who had hastened, at her re- 
quest, to place package after package of various-colored 
beads before her. “ Do you have no Indian customers 
now? Have the troubles driven them all away ?” 

“ Pardonne’. The women come now and then, but 
chiefly from the Upper Mississippi or down on the Rocky 
River. The Puans of the Wisconsin are afraid of being 
snapped up to keep company with L’Oiseau Rouge and 
Le Soleil.” 

“But they will have to come soon, to attend the pay- 
ment.” 

“ If there is to be a payment, of which there seems 
some doubt.” 

“ Oh, there will be a payment, of course. Is not the 
Government pledged that the people shall receive their 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 421 

annuities ? Be so good as to tell every one you see, that 
there will certainly be a payment. Runners will be sent 
to summon them as soon as the silver arrives. It will not 
be probably more than a couple of weeks before they are 
notified to assemble here. Tell them,” she added, in Chip- 
pewa, with which all half-breeds are familiar, “ that there 
is no danger whatever, and that it is best that not One 
chief or head of a family should be absent. 

The youth, with the courtesy of his people, gave a look 
towards the younger sister, as if he thought it not quite 
the thing that she should be cut off from the conversation ; 
then he replied, in English, — 

I will give your message.” 

“ And to-day you have not even women to trade with 
you I” pursued Miss McG-regor. 

“ PardonneV we soon shall have. There are two or three 
come in with packs, and they are now in the large ware- 
house.” 

“ In the warehouse ? Oh, then we will go and see 
them. Madeleine, it is a long time since you have had a 
peep at the warehouse. It is worth looking at, though, of 
course, at this season, after the packs have been sent off, 
it is rather empty.” 

She led the way to the warehouse, in which they found 
the bourgeois endeavoring, by gestures and an occasional 
word of their vernacular, to reconcile a couple of squaws 
to a bargain in which they thought one of the clerks had 
overreached them. They were persistent in their en- 
deavors to get more than the established price for a pack of 
deer-skins, — the women being, as a general rule, more keen 
and shrewd at a bargain than the other sex. They will 
haggle and laugh, and say “ Woank-hah” (No), and hold 
up two, or perhaps three, fingers to indicate how many 
more silver quarters they must have in payment. ■ 

36 - 


422 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


The countenance of the young man lighted up with joy- 
ful surprise, as he came forward to receive the sisters. 

Madeleine looked around at the mococks of sugar^ minia- 
ture canoes, traps, bales of goods, and all the etcetera of a 
Company’s warehouse, with apparent interest ; it was not 
until her sister turned to enter into conversation with the 
Winnebago women that she addressed more than a simple 
greeting to the bourgeois. When she could do so without 
observation, she said, in a low tone, — 

“ You never come to see us.” 

“ How can I ? I must not intrude into your father’s 
home.” 

“ Not even to call of an evening, as the gentlemen from 
the Fort, and your friend Mr. Ewing, do ?” 

“ Mr. McGregor has never invited me to become a visitor 
at his house.” 

“ Perhaps it has been through inadvertence — ^he is very 
hospitable.” 

“ I must wait till he remembers to correct the omission. 
But let us not speak of that. I want to ask a favor of you. 
Do not go on any riding-party to a distance from home ; 
and never, for any consideration, separate yourself for a 
moment from your party. Keep close to your escort — to 
your father, if possible. Will you promise me to remember 
and comply with this request ?” 

“Yes, certainly. Yqu gave me a similar injunction be- 
fore. What are you afraid of ?” 

Logan held up his finger with a warning for silence. 
He looked around, and saw that the clerk had returned to 
his station at a distant desk; then he listened to what 
Miss McGregor was saying. 

“ Tshah-nee-kah 1” he repeated to himself ; “ that is 
Autumn — but no, it is a person. ‘ Where is Tshah-nee- 
kah ? Is he at the Barribault V she is asking. Surely 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


423 


Moa-way mentioned his name as one who was plotting in 
behalf of the Red Bird !” 

He knit his brow as he strove to recall every particular 
that had been told him, and as he endeavored to put 
together and comprehend the' messages with which Miss 
McGregot was charging one of the women, who seemed 
brighter and more resolute than her companion. 

Madeleine was almost frightened as she watched the 
countenance of the young man. Never before had she 
seen on it such an expression of concentrated anger and 
distress. He turned quite pale as he listened ; but when, 
suddenly, the conversation seemed to take a different turn, 
and Miss McGregor’s voitje, from a tone of low, intense 
interest, changed to a light, business-like accent, he gave 
an emphatic, defiant motion of his head, then cleared his 
brOw, and, shaking off his frowning look, he whispered, — 

“Your sister does not suspect that I understand a little 
of this language in which she is hiding her communica- 
tions. And as for the people with whom she is scheming — 
my own darling, be upon your guard, I again entreat you. 
Keep close to your own home. These are not times when 
you— when any of usf he corrected himself, as he noticed 
Madeleine’s look of alarm, “can venture unnecessarily. 
Thank God that I am near, to watch over you I Would 
that there were some language in which we too could con- 
verse without being understood! But there, they have 
finished,” he added, in a low, hurried tone. 

Miss McGregor turned towards them and drew nearer. 

“ Mr. Logan,” she said, “ I will thank you to give these 
women an order for a dozen bread-tickets, and a calico 
shirt-pattern apiece. Have them put down to my account, 
if you please. I do not happen to have the money with 
me. They are going to do some Indian work for me, and 
I have no objection to trusting them to fulfil their bargain.” 


424 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

Without further ceremony, for her mind was absorbed 
with the conversation that had taken place, she was then 
hastening away. 

The bourgeois beckoned the women to follow him. 

“ I will walk with you to the magasin,” he remarked to 
Madeleine, “ and write the order there. The women will 
need, too, a certificate of what is due them.’^ 

Madeleine was only too happy in the opportunity of a 
few more whispered words, which she little suspected her 
sister was affording her by design. The short walk from 
the warehouse repaid her for all the lonely, weary hours 
since she and the bourgeois had last discoursed together. 

As they came in front of the magasin, their eyes were 
attracted by a group gathered before the door of the little 
post-office, which was at no great distance. 

“Ah, the Express 1 the Express P exclaimed both sisters. 

“Now, Mr. Logan, we shall have news from the Bay,” 
said the elder. 

“ Yes, and from the East — perhaps from Quebec,” added 
Madeleine. 

“ Cannot some one run over and see whether the bags 
are opened yet? Ah 1 there is Bellair — ^poor fellow ! how 
tired he must be! Do you know they say that he some- 
times walks sixty miles a day, and with that heavy mail- 
bag on his shoulders ?” 

“ Ma-na-hon-ga travelled one hundred, miles in a day, 
scalped his enemies, and made good his escape I’? said Miss 
McGregor, with a proud flash in her eye. 

“ The walking was the best part of the exploit,” said 
Logan, “ seeing that of those murdered only one was of a 
sex to defend himself.” 

Miss McGregor frowned at the comment ; but, as she 
could not afford to quarrel with the young man, she let it 
pass. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


425 


Tidings of the arrival of the express had already reached 
the garrison, and the officers came hastening down to the 
little building in search of news. 

By the times Logan’s messenger was supplied with his 
portion of the mail, the military gentlemen were ready to 
walk to the magasin, where they had learned the young 
ladies were awaiting their letters. 

Miss McGregor took the package which the clerk had 
brought. She glanced carelessly at the various addresses ; 
not expecting any letters herself, it was a matter of indif- 
ference to her who they were from. She handed one to 
Madeleine. 

“From Grace,” the latter said, tearing it open, “And, 
oh I they are coming I Company K and Company G are 
ordered here ; they are packiilg up already.” 

“ Well, have you heard the news ?” inquired an officer. 
“ Two more companies to be sent here! Won’t we have 
a nice time ? It is to be hoped there are but few married 
officers to be crowded into our well-packed quarters. Who 
has put it into the wise heads at Washington, I wonder, 
that we cannot take care of the country around here with- 
out help from abroad ? Well, there end all parties and 
entertainments at the garrison for this winter. If an officer 
has room to brush his clothes, he may think himself well 
off!” 

There was discontent and grumbling on all hands, 
“ Poor Grace I” sighed Madeleine ; “ I wonder if papa 
will like to have her come and spend the winter with us I 
Are there any more letters for me ?” she ' asked of her 
sister. 

“ No ; these are for ray father. One from Quebec,” she 
said, examining a rather imposing one, with no dearth of 
red wax upon it. “I cannot quite make out the device 
upon it; the writer’s hand must have been rather un- 
36 * 


426 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


steady, to make so ragged an impression. Do you know 
the writing , 

“ I think it is Mr. Lindsay’s. Perhaps there is a letter 
for me from Clara inside. Shall we go home now ? You 
know papa likes to have his letters immediately. AVhat a 
number of papers! Let me carry part of them.” 

“ Will you allow me to take them, instead ?” said Logan 
to Miss McGrregor, who accepted his offer graciously, not 
wishing him to suspect that his recent words had given 
offence. 

The. letter with the large seal proved to be from Mr. 
Lindsay. He had not yet received any intelligence from 
Mr. McGregor ; but a friend from St. Louis had written, 
giving him the information that a young man correspond- 
ing in description with his son had arrived at that place 
with two or three other adventurous young men, and had 
proceeded at once to the Upper Mississippi, giving out 
that they were bound for Selkirk’s Settlement. 

Mr. Lindsay besought Mr. McGregor not, to relax his 
efforts to find and intercept the young man, and to offer 
him such counsel as would induce him to give up his wild 
expedition. 

‘'And say for me, if you please, that if he will return to 
his home, be shall find no cause for complaint; that I am 
not disposed to press him upon a point which he cannot 
cheerfully accede to.” 

“ This is all Greek to me,” said Mr. McGregor, handing 
the letter to his youngest daughter. “ Is the young man 
wanting to turn Mahometan or Methodist ? Or is he. bent 
on going on the stage ? or what in the name of common 
sense is the matter ? Ah, yes, Mr. Logan — I forgot that 
I had asked you to wait till I should see if there was any- 
thing in these letters that required your attention. You 
had better, 1 think, ascertain whether the commanding 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 42*1 

officer at the Fort is going to send a special express to the 
Bay before the regular mail-day. If not, we must find a 
man to carry our mail at once. After winter sets in, you 
know, our communication with the world abroad will be 
rare and irregular. Have the goodness to write to Mr. 
Malcolm, at Mackinac, that all the tribes are quiet and will 
make their winter hunts as usual ; also, that the payment 
will be made about the 10th proximo. And here — you 
had pierhaps better read this letter and make all due in- 
quiries whether any such party has been heard' of. Was 
not there a man here from Dubuque’s yesterday ? You 
might inquire of him if he has heard anything of such a 
stranger. A young graceless, to give his father so much 
trouble !” He handed him Mr. Lindsay’s letter. 

Miss McGregor stole a look at the bourgeois. Had 
Madeleine talked to him of her friend’s brother ? and were 
any jealous feelings aroused ? She had detected a sharp 
glance towards her sister, and she was sure that Madeleine 
had colored. Was the news from her old love causing her 
to regret having taken on the new ? 

All the way, as Monica had walked to the maigasin, 
although she had chatted with such apparent cheerfulness, 
her eye had been wandering in the direction of the' hated 
structure in which, fettered, cribbed, and perhaps bereft of 
the light of day, lay the object of her tenderest solicitude. 

She had early sought to interest her ' spiritual' director 
in his fate; and Father St. Train, being a kind and' con- 
scientious man, had made more than ohe' effort to engage 
the accused to receive such instruction as would tend to 
their eternal welfare ; but all his advances had been re- 
pulsed. ‘ 

Wau-nig-sootsh-kah (for Wee-kau remained doggedly 
silent) ‘‘wanted none nf the religion of the' Big Knives; he 
was contented with his own faith, which taught him to 


428 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


punish those who had harmed him, and have done with it; 
not to inflict a living death for months on those who but 
made themselves amends for wrongs which they or their 
people had suffered.’’ 

The offer of a visit from Monica was in like manner 
rejected. “ Why should she come but to look upon him 
and then go away sad and sorrowful ?” Thus had the 
Red Bird cut himself off from whatever of consolation her 
presence might have bestowed, and Monica could only 
gaze at the walls of his prison and devour her grief while 
wearing the mask of cheerfulness. 

That part of the family mansion formerly occupied by 
her mother was now assigned to her and her sister, to 
each a separate apartment ; and in her own especial one 
Monica passed many hours each day, alternately contriv- 
ing and rejecting schemes for the accomplishment of the 
end she had in view. 

The bourgeois had, on bis part, much food for thought. 
His chief subject of anxiety was the possibility which 
shaped itself to his imagination after listening to the col- 
loquy between Miss McGregor and the Winnebago woman. 
It had been to this effect: — 

“ Where do you come from ?” 

“ From the lower Barribault village.” 

“ Is Tshah-nee-kah there still ?” 

“No; he is at his village at Tay-shob-ee-rah.” (The 
Four Lakes.) 

“ Can you carry a message to him ?” 

“ Yes; it is pretty far. I have two children.” 

“I shall pay you well for your trouble. Tell Tshah- 
nee-kah to come to the payment. Tell him the Agent has 
got the silver all ready, and the chiefs will be notified next 
week. Tell him Mau-nee-kah asks him to come ; she must 
talk with him. Will you remember the name ?” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


429 


“ Mau-nee-kah — yes,” said the woman, imitating with 
her two hands the slow gait of an animal ; “ Tshah-nee- 
kah is to come to the wigwam of Nar-zee-kah ?” 

“ No ; my father has shut his doors against the chiefs of 
the Ho-tshung-rahs. Tshah-nee-kah must come to the wig- 
wam yonder” (motioning with her hand towards a building 
set apart especially for the Indians). He must send one 
of the women of his lodge to me with a bag of cranberries, 
or a bunch of ducks, or something of the kind, as a present. 
She will let me know that he is here, and I will go and 
speak to him. Did you walk from your village ?” 

“No; my canoe is in the river.” 

“ Good. Now come with me and I will give you some 
presents, — with some strings of wampum to carry as a 
token to Tshah-nee-kah. If you do your errand well, I 
shall give you and your two children each a blanket for 
the winter.” 

The bourgeois had observed that Miss McGregor after- 
wards selected, in the retail store, not only the wampum, 
but also some beads and ribbons for each of the women. 
He could not tell whether the latter had any significance 
further than as a token of good will, 

“ It is evident that the aid of a person named Tshah- 
nee-kah is to be secured in carrying out the mischief she 
is meditating,” said Logan, as he: turned over all the cir- 
cumstances in his mind, on his way home to his hoarding- 
house. Tshah-nee-kah! I must remember .the name, 
and keep watch for the person. He is to be here at the 
payment. Such are the young lady’s orders.” 


430 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER LIX. 

The young wife of M. Tremblay, of whom her hus- 
band had averred that she was such a “petit ange” that 
she neither pinched nor pulled the hair of her step-brood, 
was nevertheless gifted with energies and activities that 
must find a safety-valve somewhere. 

The unhappy sister-in-law, Therese, in regard to whose 
relative position her brother had dropped suggestiv^e hints 
to Madame Berthelet, came in for no inconsiderable por- 
tion of the steam and friction without which the machinery 
of the menage seemed incapable of revolving. 

The remaining share was pretty equally divided between 
her servants and such of the “ sauvages,” or rather “ sau- 
vagesses,” as presumed to loiter about the yard or porch 
without having paid an admission-fee in the shape of 
game, fish, berries, or some other contribution to the 
larder. 

The nine living olive-branches might have furnished a 
fourth object, had it not been that Madam Tremblay 
piqued herself upon being, a good step-mother, just as she 
did upon being a good housekeeper, a good hostess, and a 
good Catholic. What she undertook to do she did with 
all her might. It was a generally received opinion, how- 
ever, that she had never undertaken to be a good sister- 
in-law. „ - ' 

It was the office of “ ma soeur Therese’’* to lay the table 
and see all things in proper order for the meals being 
placed upon the table ; and as the poor spinster, who was 


* My sister Tli6rSse. 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


431 


no longer young, was near-sighted, clumsy, and easily 
disconcerted, it was not without a considerable amount of 
demonstration, as well as frequent instances of forgetful- 
ness, that this labor three times in the day was accomplished. 
Seldom, even with her most conscientious efforts, was the 
proper complement of cups, plates, knives, and spopus in 
readiness at the moment of serving the viands. The detec- 
tion of such deficiency would cause th,e wicked little gray 
eyes of Madame to flash irefully as she addressed the 
withering intimation,-— 

“ Therhse — point de cuillere 1”* or “ Therese— pas assez 
de tasses I”f 

“ Mais, mais P’ the poor, frightened . soul would ex- 
claim, “quand j’ai compte mon monde tete par tete!”J 
And she would bustle up from her seat at table, generally 
upsetting her chair as she did so, shuffle to the closet, and 
bring thence an armful to supply the single article which 
was lacking. 

Ewing, though exceedingly kind and obliging, >vas too 
much inclined to play waggish tricks ; and he was not long 
in “colluding and colloguing’^ with Donohue, who was also 
a boarder in the Tremblay family, at the expense of the 
unlucky sister-in-law. They would come early into the 
breakfast-room and seat themselves,- each with a. book in 
his hand, , apparently absorbed, yet watching . the poor 
Th(^rese plunging around and counting, quite audibly, as 
she laid down each cup upon the salver, — 

Pour ma soeur Doniitile I pour mon frhre 1 pour Mons’ 
Ewing, Mons’ Logan, Mons’ Donohue, pour mon neveu 
Jerome 1” etc. etc. 

The same ceremony would be repeated with each saucer. 


* Therese, no spoon. f Therese, not enough cups, 

t My gracious ! when I counted all the people one by one ! 


432 


MARK LOG AN, TEE BOURGEOIS, 


each plate, each knife, fork, and spoon. When all were 
laid in order, Therese would heave a huge sigh of satisfac- 
tion as she remarked, — 

“ Les voilk ! tons comme il faut — rien de manque — assure- 
ment, rien de manque 

Hardly would the door close behind her before one of 
the mischievous ones would rise quietly from his seat, slip 
a cup, a spoon, or a fork from the table, and, opening the 
drawer of an old-fashioned, seldom-used chest of drawers 
that stood in a corner, hide away the pilfered article and be 
seated again at his book before the injured lady reappeared. 

To describe the look of astonishment and dismay with 
which Therese, almost before being comfortably seated at 
table, would hear the startling “ Therese — une fourchette 
de manqueel”f “Therese — ’ienque neuf soucoupes 
would be impossible. Away she would start, to replace 
that which was missing, with her accustomed, — 

“ Toutefois, je les avals compte — mon Dieu ! mon Dieu 1”§ 

But one day, in making a thorough clearing-up of the 
dining-room. Mademoiselle Therese chanced to open the 
magpie’s hiding-place, when the tricks that had been 
played upon her stood revealed. The drawer could 
scarcely be closed for the quantity of “ uameZ/e” that had 
been abstracted and stored away. 

“Mais, mais,” she growled, “ c’est ce vaurien d’Ewing 
qui m’a joue ce tour I Je lui rendrai son change. Quitte 
a quitto et bons amis !”|| And she turned in her mind in 
what way she should give him a Rowland for his Oliver. 


There, they are all right — certainly nothing wanting, 
t Th6r^se, a fork wanting. 

X Therese, only nine saucers. 

§ And when I had counted them — my heavens ! 

II It is that good-for-nothing Ewing who has played me this trick; 
but I will be even with him. Turn about is fair play. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


433 


When Ewing' came in to his dinner, w'hich, having ho 
pressing business, he usually did a little before the other 
boarders, he sauntered into the dining-room to look at the 
clock — possibly, also, “in hopes some food for humor there 
to meet.” His quick eye was at once caught by a slight 
change in the ordinary arrangements -of the table. The 
bread, instead of being laid in slices in japanned trays at 
each end, wms placed beside each person’s plate. 

“ This means something,” the young man said to him- 
self. lie ran to open his receptacle— it was empty, 

“ Ahl she 'has found us out!” he exclaimed; and, step- 
ping lightly to the table, he dexterously transferred the 
piece of bread which had been placed beside his own plate 
to that of Mademoiselle Ther^se, taking hers in exchange. 
He had hardly accomplished this feat when Mademoiselle 
herself bustled into the room. On seeing him she began 
to chuckle, but she held her lips as tight as nature would 
permit, that she might not betray herself, and only bobbed 
her head and smiled when Ewing addressed some civil 
remark to her; then she hurried out of the room and gave 
vent to an explosion of mirth quite foreign to her ordinary 
lugubrious deportment. 

When all were Seated at table, the soup was served. 
Therhse could not restrain her impatience. 

“ Mr. Ewing, how you like you soup ?” 

Ewing had ventured, after observing that Madame Trem- 
blay herself had no scruples in doing so, to take a spoonful 
or two. 

“I find it excellent,” he said, breaking off a piece of 
bread and putting it into his mouth with an appearance of 
enjoyment which puzzled Mademoiselle. 

“Not quite enough pepper,” she mumbled, seasoning 
her own soup, in her agitation, rather more than she in- 
tended. 


37 


434 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“Ah I mais, mais — e’en est trop 1” and she bit from her 
piece of bread a huge mouthful, to temper the fierce pun- 
gency. It was adding fire to flame. She choked, coughed, 
bit again, and then, with flaming cheeks and streaming 
eyes, looked at her mischievous neighbor across the table. 

The trick that had been played her stood confessed. 
There was nothing for it but to jump from her seat and 
rush from the room in what was, literally, hot haste. The 
gentlemen preserved, as well as they were able, a decorous 
gravity until Mr. Donohue, who had been seated next 
Mademoiselle, took the remains of her piece of .bread and 
displayed to the company the ingenious but not very 
original contrivance of a wedge cut out of the centre and 
the opening filled with Cayenne pepper, so very neatly 
executed that it had escaped the observation of Miss The- 
rese, though herself the artisan. Then the laugh became 
general. 

“Mais, mais I” exclaimed M. Tremblay, who did not in 
the least understand the joke; “ Quelle invention de cette 
pauvre Theresel Faire une poivriere de son pain, par 
exemplel’?* 


* What an idea in poor Th6rese, to make a pepper-box of her bread ! 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


435 


CHAPTER LX. 

As the time for the assembling of the Indians for the 
payment of their annuities drew nigh, Logan’s uneasiness 
increased. It was evident that the expected troops would 
not arrive in time to keep the disaffected in check, should 
they purpose any hostile demonstration. 

Not that he believed that an open attack was meditated. 
Moa-wayhad assured him that the chiefs and braves would 
not hazard a movement of^that kind; but that some mis- 
chief was brewing — that his beloved was, in some way, to 
be brought into jeopardy — he was fully convinced ; and 
equally certain was he that her sister was the chief schemer 
in the plot, whatever it might be. To defeat her plans, it 
was, then, of supreme necessity that every pass and outlet 
of the little settlement should be fully guarded, and that 
Miss McGregor should be hindered from holding commu- 
nication with her Puan friends, except in the open light of 
day, and under the watchful supervision of those interested 
in the safety of her sister. 

He was perplexed as to the course he ought to pursue. 
Should he speak to Mr. McGregor himself, and impart to 
him his suspicions r 

But with what countenance could he, upon such vague 
and uncertain data as he possessed, go to a father and 
say, “lam persuaded, sir, that your eldest daughter is con- 
certing measures to injure her young sister, in the interest 
of the Winnebago prisoners yonder”? 

To furnish ground for his suspicions he w'ould merely 
be able to quote the obscure hints of a strange Indian, and 
the fragments which he fancied he had understood of a 


436 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


conference in a language with which he was confessedly 
not very conversant. Such proofs would appear inconclu- 
sive if adduced in disparagement of an utter stranger — how 
much more, then, when brought forward to Mr. McGregor 
in crimination of his own daughter I 

He discussed the subject in all its bearings with Ewing, 
whom he had now taken fully into his confidence. 

“It seems,” s.aid his friend, “that some hundreds of 
these gentry are expected to be present, as all the heads 
of families have been invited to assemble here at the ap- 
pointed day for the paj^ment, about a fortnight hence. 
We need not rely upon the troops from the Bay as ad- 
ditional protection. We all know that two companies of 
soldiers, with all their belongings, and some five or six 
families of officers with their furniture and luggage, cannot 
be transported up the chutes and rapids of the Fox River 
and do\yn the Wisconsin in less than a month from the 
time of starting ; so we must give that up.” 

“Yes; and it is equally clear that the command here 
will not suffice to keep so thorough a look-out as to pre- 
vent any contemplated mischief.” 

“ They certainly will not. But why could not the citizens 
organize as an additional force ? In the way of a volunteer 
patrol, for instance, they might furnish a pretty effective 
arm of service.” 

“ Capital I” replied Logan, catching at the suggestion. 
“I think I will venture to speak with Mr. McGregor 
about it.” 

“ Suppose, then,” .said hm friend, “ that we call there to- 
gether this evening and broach the subject.” 

Logan demurred ; he could not let slip so good an op- 
portunity of repairing to the house by himself, and possibly 
securing^a few piinutf?.s’ tetc-iirtete with his beloved. 

“ I will go alone, if you please, this afternoon. I have 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


43T 


a business report to make to Mr. McGregor, who has not 
been to the warehouse these two days. Some one said he 
was not very well. If there happens to be any I’eason 
why be cannot see me, he may think proper,” he said, 
smiling, “to transact business through a deputy,” 

“ So be it,” said Ewing. “ If I cannot be of service, in 
occupying the attention of Miss Monica, or fulfilling any 
other kind office, at least I will not spoil sport. So good 
luck to you ; and I will back to my Winnebago Grammar.” 

The bourgeois, on inquiring for the master of the house, 
was ushered into an apartment in one of the wings of the 
quaint, irregular old building; a room that, was called 
indifferently the library or the office, as it possessed some- 
thing of the character of both, being fitted up with book- 
cases, and also with desks and cabinets for the transaction 
of business. He found Mr. McGregor seated in a large 
arm-chair, with one bandaged foot supported on a stool, 
and with drawn features that indicated past and present 
suffering. Madeleine was seated near him, her guitar 
leaning against a little table by her side, on which lay an 
open book. Mr. McGregor’s absence from the warehouse 
was explained even before he addressed Logan with, — 
“Ah ! I am glad you are come. I wanted to talk with 
you. You see me tied up here with something or other — 
erysipelas, inflammatory rheumatism, or what not I No- 
body seems wise enough to tell. It may be this new 
disease, neuralgia — tic douloureux — who knows ? It strikes 
me that doctOjTS, as. a general thing, are the stupidest 
people in existence I ' Their w^hole system of practice is a 
mere experimenting among poisons.” 

“ I am extremely sorry, sir, to see you suffering in this 
way,” said the bourgeois. 

“ Suffering I yes, it will bear that' name.”, Mr. Mc- 
Gregor’s face contracted with pain. “ Mallie thinks she 

37 * 


438 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


knows better than the rest of them, and she will have it 
that it is the gout 

“Oh, papal” said Madeleine, “you know I was only 
joking. I know too well how gentlemen resent a sus- 
picion that hints of-generous living.” 

“ Unless they happen to be of very humble antecedents,” 
said her father, a little cynically. “ In that case I observe 
they have no objection to the imputation of so aristocratic 
a visitor.” 

“I trust, sir, you are not to be a martyr to that excruci- 
ating complaint,” said the young man, feelingly. 

“ Thank you. This is excruciating enough’ whatever it 
is. My daughter has been trying first to read and then to 
sing to me, but I do not find that the mind can conquer 
the body. It is only our copper-colored neighbors who 
can sing at the stake. And, speaking of them, I wonder 
how the two over in the jail yonder bear their confinement I 
I fancy they don’t congratulate themselves much on their 
late exploit. Poor fellows ! or, rather, poor Red Bird I 
for I confess I do not feel much sympathy with the other.” 

The bourgeois did not at once reply. He glanced a 
little uneasily at Madeleine, which her father interpreting, 
he said,' — 

“ My daughter, I think you will feel the better for a little 
stroll in the garden. You have been shut up here without 
breathing the fresh air long enough. It is no light task 
nursing an old cross-patch like me.” 

“An old cross-patch, papa, when you are so patieuti” 
said Madeleine, reproachfully. 

“Well, run along, and stay till I send for you. And 
now, what is it, Logan ?” he said, turning to the young 
man. .“ For I see you have pmething on your mind.” 

The bourgeois did not find it an easy -task to explain 
the nature'of his apprehensions; yet he contrived, with the 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


439 


brevity and promptness which had from the first recom- 
mended him to his chief, and which were now peculiarly 
acceptable to one rendered impatient by pain, to lay before 
him his reasons for believing that some enterprise was on 
foot which needed to be checked by a display of more than 
usual vigilance, and by the presence of a greater military 
force than that which the garrison could furnish. 

“ The troops we are expecting from Fort Howard cannot 
possibly arrive in time for the payment, which the Agent 
has fixed for the tenth of next month, in spite of the re- 
monstrances of Colonel Armstrong ; he has sent runners 
to notify the Indians accordingly.’’ 

“ The Agent is a fool 1 Does he not understand that he 
is playing into the hands of the savages ?” said Mr. Mc- 
Gregor, excitedly. “ How dare he act in defiance of the 
commanding officer?” 

“ I am told he piques himself on disclaiming all subjection 
to military authority.” 

“Very well— we will give him a taste of civil law, then. 
I will thank you, in my name, to wait on Judge Badeau 
and ask him to call out the militia and have them put in 
training at once, with orders to take charge of the ground 
and the proceedings at the coming Indian payment.” 

“ It was the very thing I was going to suggest — that of 
arming a citizen force. If you hfive an organized militia, 
so much the better.” 

Oh, yes, we have, or used to have, the Prairie Guards, 
who are occasionally drilled by some of the officers at the 
Fort. It is a Canadian company — organized some years 
ago — soon after Dixon left with his Majesty’s — I mean 
with John Bull’s red-coats, who had been holding posses- 
sion of the place during the late war. Of course, the 
citizens were all for King George when he was up, and 
against him when he was down. M. Tremblay can tell 


440 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


you in what state the little corps is, and who are still on the 
muster rolls. They had better be got together and exer- 
cised. It will be well, as you say, to have an available 
force at hand without the necessity of awaiting movements 
which may be crippled by the caprice of an aristocratic 
functionary ; for there is, after all, no saying what these 
Neechees may undertake if they are bent on rescuing Wau- 
nig-sootsh-kah. They understand that, let him have been 
guilty of all he is charged with, he had provocation enough, 
according to their code.” 

“Yet, if the older chiefs are disposed for continued 
tranquillity, might not this disposition be confirmed and 
strengthened by a talk in the wigwam with such men as 
Day-kau-ray, Kar-ray-mau-nee, Man-Eater, and the Little 
Elk?” 

“ An excellent suggestion, if I can only get well enough 
to act upon it. I will do my best to get rid of this tor- 
menting visitor, and to that end will keep myself perfectly 
quiet. If you see my daughter in the parlor,” he added, as 
the young man rose to go, “ please say that I am getting 
a little easier, and wish to remain quiet for awhile, and 
that I am going to try to take a nap.” 

Logan did not see Madeleine in the parlor ; and as it was 
important that he should deliver the ' message he was 
charged with, he walked- through the broad hall which 
opened upon a little lawn separating the house from the 
garden. 

In passing the half- open door of Mr. McGregor’s bed- 
room, which was in the rear of the library, he heard the 
rustle of a silk dress within the apartment. 

Could it be Madeleine? No; for at this moment his 
eye caught sight of her in the garden, stooping over and 
raising some autumnal flowers which had been beaten down 
by the wind. 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


441 


The bourgeois smiled. “ There is but one other in the 
mansion who wears a silk dress,” he said to himself. “ I 
wonder if it is her usual custom to possess herself of in- 
formation in this manner I Fortunately, she can overhear 
nothing that Mallie and I say to each other in the garden. 
What a sweet abbreviation ! Mallie — my Mallie !” 

There was another who soliloquized at this moment, and 
it was after this fashion: — 

“ So they are going to call out a volunteer force,, and 
set spies at every corner, are they ? Then I must go to 
work to circumvent them-^and it must be Jerome who 
will help me. It will be but a few smiles and honeyed 
words expended on the young simpleton, and he is mine 
for life or death I” 

The bourgeois was soon by the side of Madeleine, and 
had delivered his message ; then he looked earnestly 
and scrutinizingly towards the house. 

“ Tell me, my darling, which is your apartment ?” 

“ Mine ? The one in the farther wing, with the window 
looking this way. Why do you ask ?” 

“ The one with the window standing open ? Have you 
a spring to fasten it securely at night ?” 

“ I am sure I don’t know. I never fastened a window 
in my life — why should 1 ? I often leave my window 
open all night in the summer-time. Why, Mark, what put 
it into your head to ask such a question 

“ Not the wish to frighten you, dearest, if I can induce 
you otherwise to be on your guard. What I wish is, to 
impress upon you that things are not now as they formerly 
were ; that the Indians, for instance, are more disposed to 
be troublesome, and that you must not fail to use , every 
precaution, just the same as if you knew they were lurking 
for their prey.” 

“ What a horrible life to lead ! I don’t think you know, 


442 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Mark, about our Indians — bow much they love us — how 
kind they have always been to us. I would trust those 
good old chiefs ” 

“ Yes, so should I, those good old chiefs ; but there are 
some others whom I would not trust. Do you think all 
who are of their blood love you, Mallie He looked pene- 
tratingly at her. He felt that it was cruel to awaken a 
suspicion ; but was not her life, or, at least, her safety, at 
stake ? 

Madeleine turned pale. “ You do not think ” 

“ No matter what I think. I will tell you that I do not 
think any severe personal injury is intended you by any 
one, and you must forgive me if I have alarmed you ; but, 
dearest, all the same you must make me one promise, and 
that is, that you will keep both your windows and doors se- 
curely fastened at night. Will you give me that promise V' 

“ Even the door between Monica’s room and mine V' 
Even that one,” he said, “ and more than all the rest,” 
he might have added. 

“But what,” she said, with an attempt at archness, 
“ what if I should have a fainting-fit, or a spasm, or some 
other dreadful thing, in the night, while locked up all 
alone ?” 

“ That is hardly supposable, with your fine health and 
excellent sense. You are not the person to invite such 
attacks ; and although it is possible such a visitation might 
be sent, yet I believe,” lowering his voice reverentially, 
“the choice of King David should- be ours, ‘Let us fall 
into the hands of the Lord, for his mercies are great, but 
let us not fall into the hands of man.’” 

Not wishing to expose the young lady to comment by a 
protracted colloquy, the bourgeois, after a few more sen- 
tences, which had, as he saw to his satisfaction, the effect 
of restoring the roses to her cheeks, took his leave, little 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


443 


suspecting that the silk dress about which he had specu- 
lated was at that very moment rustling in his own peculiar 
province, — the large warehouse of the Company’s establish- 
ment. 

Logan found Judge Badeau (he was thus called by 
virtue of his commission as justice of the peace) seated in 
his office. 

He was a little, plump man, who, spite of the maxim, 
“ An inch of fat on the ribs is worth a Mackinac blanket,”, 
was making himself, on this mild day, still hotter by the 
aid of a great four-plate stove, beside which his chair of 
state was placed. A couple of clients, of opposite sexes, 
each striving to out-talk the other, were lifting up their 
testimony in the Hibernian vernacular, while the judge 
was endeavoring to bring them to reason in a mixture of 
patois and English. 

“ And so, if yer honor plase, it’s come to this ” 

“ So, the long and the short of it is, it’s no use thryin^ 
to stand it any longer, yer honor ; so if ye’ll only be so 
kind ” 

Phoo-oo — stop I taisez-vous, I tell you I Yill you be 
silence and let me' speak ? Qu’est-ce que — Yat is it you 
vant? To get unmarry ? Quelle idee pour des bons Catho- 
liques !” 

“ Yes, we be good Catholics, and we can’t live together. 
Biddy she’d provoke a saint ” 

“ And that Pat, sir, och I he’s the man that ’ud put an 
ind to a poor woman ” 

“ If ’twas the last woman on God’s earth ” 

“ Taisez-vous — taisez-vous, sacre I Betes — crapauds !” 
cried the incensed judge. “ You will be unmarry? Eh 
bien — I shall arrange you litt’ affair. Yere’s your papes ?” 

“ Papes ?” 

'‘Yes, your papes dat you got married with I Com- 


444 MARK LOO AN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 

preaez-vous said the little functionary, taking up a folded I 
paper from the table. 

“ Och I is it the lines, yer honor ? Here they are^’^ | 
said the woman, producing a greasy pocket-book from her 
bosom and presenting her marriage certificate. 

“ Dat’s de papes, eh !” said the judge, scrutinizing the 
document for a moment. “ Oui — dem is dem Then, • 
opening the stove-door and thrusting the certificate among 
the burning coals, — 

“ Here, dey all gone 1 now you no be no more married. 
You can both pay me two shilling* and den you can go.” 

Logan, though amused at the look of blank dismay with 
which each regarded the burning document, had not the 
time to spare to watch the finale of the transaction. He 
delivered the message of Mr. McGregor, and then turned 
his steps towards the warehouse, leaving the two litigants 
gazing, in dubious astonishment, alternately at the judge 
and at each other. 


CHAPTER LXL 

Jerome, the eldest son of Monsieur Tremblay, was a 
clerk of the Company. 

Ilis forte, like that of many of the motifs, being his ex- 
quisite penmanship, his post was at a desk in the large 
warehouse. It was here that Miss McGregor found him ; 
and his eyes flashed with delight at the cordial saluta- 
tion he was accosted with, so different from the cold and 
distant nod of a few days before. 

‘‘Ah I you are here alone ! Then I may speak a few 
words with you ; but perhaps I am interrupting you 

“Interrupt? Oh, never, never! all my moments, you 
well know — — ” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


446 


Yes, Jerome, I know very well,” she said, with a sigh, 
that, among the few I may call friends, you are one that 
I may count on in any hour of trouble. It is a happiness 
to me to be able to say so much.” 

She saw his hand tremble, and that he laid his pen aside 
from sheer inability to guide it properly over the paper. 

“Speak,” he said, looking at her with a depth of ex- 
pression that, hard as she had taught herself to be, some- 
what discomposed her. “ You know that you have but to 
command. Give me but an opportunity of showing you 
that I am your friend — your servant.” 

“No, no, Jerome, not my servant. It is not for me, 
but with me, that I would ask you to work. Have we not 
common wrongs, common sorrows ? Have you forgotten 
your mother’s sister, and my uncle’s daughters ? It is a 
frightful story, but, alas I it is too true. Were they not 
captured by vile boatmen, carried away to St. Pierre and 
kept for weeks, then returned to their wronged and out- 
raged husbands ? And were not their sons and brothers 
slaughtered and mutilated while attempting to rescue them 
and to avenge the injury inflicted on those nearest and 
dearest to them ? You have not forgotten, Jerome, — none 
of us can ever forget, — bow one sailor, more brutal, more 
bloodthirsty than the rest, seized a boat-pole, and with 
blows assaulted and pushed into the stream our friends, 
who were striving to rescue the unhappy victims ; then 
sailed away in triumph, with a severed hand and four 
scalps dangling from his weapon !” 

“ No, no,” hissed Jerome through his teeth, “I have not 
forgotten. I never will forget — mon Dieu ! mon Dieu I 
never, never 1” 

“ Did the Government,” pursued Monica, “ever punish 
or attempt to punish these flagrant outrages? Among 
civilized nations — civilized — scorn blazed from her 

38 


446 MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

beautiful eyes as she uttered the words, — “ among the Big 
Knives — that is the term that well characterizes them — a 
man who receives such an injury shoots down the author 
of it, and walks abroad unpunished. Our people attempt 
to avenge themselves, and what is the consequence t Look 
over to yonder dungeon, and tell me 1” 

Tears of rage and grief quenched the fire of the previous 
moment ; they gathered, too, in the eyes of the young 
man, as he said, passionately, — 

“ Tell me what I can do — what you would have me dol’^ 

“Ah I Jerome, what can we do? I would not,” in a 
softer tone, “ have you thrust yourself into danger.” 

“Danger! What do I care for that? What is danger 
to me, if I can serve you ?” 

She laid her hand upon the desk, at which he, fearing 
interruption, had continued seated, as if to support herself. 
He took it in his own trembling one. 

“You know that all my efforts — my life itself — are at 
your disposal. Only give me an opportunity of showing 
you of what importance your least wish, your slightest 
word, is to me.” 

“ Nay, nay, my friend, I am not going to ask so much. 
I would not have you place yourself in jeopardy ; but I 
must be brief before we are interrupted. Listen to me.” 

She then proceeded to unfold to him the plan she had 
formed for the capture of a hostage with which to effect the 
ransom of the Red Bird. She gave no hint of the person 
selected for this purpose, but she detailed the measures she 
had partially concerted with Tshah-nee-kah, and her fears 
that they might now, after all, fall through, in consequence 
of the increased vigilance which was to be secured by the 
addition of the volunteer company to the regular military 
force. 

“Well, what then can be done?” asked Jerome, the 


MARK LO GAN, THE BO UR GEO IS. 


447 


brilliancy of whose inventive powers did not correspond 
with the intensity of his emotional nature. “ How can it 
all be managed 

“I heard it said,” replied Miss McGregor, “that the 
French company (which, of course, includes all themetifs), 
having lain inactive and neglected for some time past, would 
have to be in a manner reorganized — new officers appointed, 
and so forth. Don’t you think, Jerome, that you would be 
sufficiently popular to get chosen captain? I am sure,” 
she said, with one of her most beaming smiles, “ that 1 
would give you a dozen votes, if I had them.” 

“ Thank you — how good you are !” said the young man, 
almost choking with excess of feeling. “ But for my being 
chosen, I do not know; there are so many older than me. 
There is Jarrot, and Olivier, and Le Mai — — ” 

“ And your father,” said Monica, with a sudden bright 
thought. “Ah! that is excellent! Why would not your 
father do, admirably ?” 

“But my father would give way to me. You would 
rather have me ?” said Jerome, in a tone of jealous anxiety. 
“ Who would do for you as much as I would ? And then 
I have exercised with the company, and know all the 
manoeuvres, which my father does not.” 

“ That is true, and, therefore, you would of course be 
the most eligible ; only, as I might have need of you by 
my side throughout the payment, I was thinking whether 
your military duties would not interfere — — ” . 

“Yes, yes,” said the young man, eagerly, “they would 
interfere— they would keep me away from you. If I 
could only get some person to propose my father, which I 
am afraid it would not occur to any one to do ! Oh, no I 
nothing must keep me from your side I” 

He pressed still more closely the hand which he had 
continued to hold clasped in his. 


448 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


“ Monique, jjrou will not forget — you will not call on any 
other but me ? B-emember, I am all yours, body and soul 
— yes, soul ; all, all I” 

Monica extricated herself. 

“ We must think of duty first of all, Jerome ; and this 
is a solemn duty, is it not ? — a duty which we owe to the 
dead and to the living 1 Let us accomplish this first.” 

“ Yes, yes ; I will ask no favor — no reward but the 
pleasure of serving you. If, in your matchless goodness, 

after we shall have succecided- ” He looked wistfully 

at her. 

“ Monique knows how to acquit her debts,” she said, with 
an air of maiden modesty. ''As for the nomination of 

your father for the post of captain of the company ” 

She pondered, then exclaimed, with sudden inspiration, 
‘'Ask Mr. Ponohue, your boarder, what he thinks of the 
election of your father. If it strikes him favorably, he 
can mention it to Gautier Jarrot and a few others, and the 
choice will be secured.” 

. Monica understood perfectly that such an absurdity was 
a thing that would jump with the humor of the mischief- 
loving Irishman. 

" I will propose it to him this very evening,” said 

Jerome; “and X will come up and let you know ” 

He broke off, warned by approaching footsteps to attend 
to the writing which was before him, while Miss McGregor 
turned and calmly walked a few steps, to meet the bour- 
geois face to face. 

Logan stared in amazement. He could not believe it 
possible that she had already not only reached the 
warehouse, but, to all appearance* accomplished the errand 
which had brought her. 

What that errand could have been, puzzled him. Not 
to see Mm^ for, by listening, she must have ascertained 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


449 


that he was at her father’s house, and also have over- 
heard the message to Judge Badeau which he had been 
charged to deliver. 

“ Her first business would naturally be to counteract 
our plan of adding to the guards on the day of payment ; 
but how Logan questioned to himself. “ Surely,” with 
a contemptuous smile, “ she is not proposing to take our 
simple Jerome into her counsels, and rely on any aid he 
can afford her in her schemes !” 

The young metif, meanwhile, wrote and wrote, feeling 
instinctively that the eye of his bourgeois was upon him. 
He had frequent occasion for the use of his penknife and 
pounce-box, which only made him the more nervous, an 
erasure being a blemish which his superior regarded with 
but little toleration. 

‘‘ Is the invoice of Maillet’s outfit copied, Jerome ?” 
asked Logan, after a few moments. 

“ Not yet — not quite, mon bourgeois. I will soon have 
it finished.” 

“ She has been talkhig to him and keeping him from his 
work. It will all come out by-and-by,” was Logan’s 
mental comment. 

And it did come out at the tea-table, when Jerome, 
true to his engagement, began, — 

“ Father, there is a talk of getting our militia into order 
again, to act as guards till the Indian troubles are over.” 

‘‘ Where did you learn that ?” asked Logan, quietly. 

The young man blushed scarlet. 

Oh, the boys were talking about it. They thought it 
would be a good plan, at least,” he said, hurriedly. 

“ Let me see ; what was the name of our old company ?” 
said Donohue. “ ‘ The Cannuck* Grannydears,’ wasn't it ?” 


♦ The cant and rather depreciatory name for Canadians. 

38 * 


450 MARK LOO AN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 

“ There was no Cannuck about it,” said Jerome, resent- 
fully. “ There were very few Canadians in it. My 
father, it is true, is from La Marriale,* but he is a French- 
man for all that, just as much as you, Mr. Donohue, are 
an Irishman. And as for me and Olivier and the Jarrots, 
Ave are metifs, or more than metifs — we are no Cannucks. 
It is not a civil thing to call names.” 

“ Why, bless my heart, boy, what makes you so touchy ?” 
said the Irishman. “Now, if I had had such a nice young 
lady to call on me as you’ve had this afternoon, I would 
have been sweeter than mountain-dew.” 

Jerome bent over his supper, striving to look as if he 
had not heard the remark. His step-motHer took up the 
word with animation. 

“Ah ha ! And who was that, if you please. Monsieur 
Donohue ?” 

“ I can’t justly say who. You must ask Jerome,” was 
the mischievous answer. “ I did not see her face ; I 
only heard her silk gown rustle.” 

“Silk gown ! Then it is easy to tell who it was; for 
our young girls are generally not too proud to appear in 
a dress of indienne-\ on a weekday. It was Monique 
McGregor! Jerome, I hope you are not so weak as to 
be letting her make a fool of you a second time ?” 

“ Jerome can take care of himself,” growled the young 
man, without looking up. 

“Hi, hi! speak like dat to your maman?” exclaimed 
his father. “ Don’t you know, mon gars, dat God not 
love you if you quarrel and be hugly ?” 

“Let him speak,” replied Madame, with a nervous 
laugh, “ and I too will speak — me. Monique is not to 
be trusted. I know her well ; we were girls together at 


♦ Montreal. 


t Indian calico. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


461 


the Ladies\ C’est une ^ pince sans rzVe/*-— that’s what 
she is. Jerome will find it out. She wants something of 
him now, and therefore she will be sweeter than all the 
flowers of tlie garden ; by-and-by, when he will like, may 
be, to be a little sweeter than the flowers with her, it will 
be like the little play, ‘ Parlez-moi, mais ne touehez-moi 
pas.’f That is what Jerome will find out, if he waits 
long enough.” 

“Oh, ma vieille.J A young lady comme il faut, like 
Mademoiselle Monique I.” playfully remonstrated poor M. 
Tremblay, anxious to pour oil upon the troubled waters; 

Madame had shrewdness enough to understand that it 
comported best with her own dignity to abstain from 
entering into an argument with her lord and master. She 
merely remarked, therefore, with a superior air, “I shall 
not return the compliment of Monsieur by touching upon 
the subject of ages. Let us rather return to our sheep. 
What is this about a militia company ? I, for one* shall 
be glad if people are going to be more on their guard 
against the savages. I do not trust them — me — neither 
man nor woman.” 

The conversation had been hitherto carried on in Eng- 
lish, which Madame Tremblay spoke, and Monsieur be- 
lieved himself to speak, very well. Poor Miss Therhse, 
who understood only her own vernacular, was thus quite 
cut off from the conversation, and could only sputter forth 
an occasional interjection, or sit silent with her under lip 
hanging in such a despondent fashion as now and then 
drew from her sister the ejaculation, “ Gueule de vache 1” 
a figure of speech which she took care, however, should 

* She’s a “ pinch without laughing j” — a proverbial expression for a sly, 
mischievous person. 

f Speak to me, but don’t touch me. 

J My old woman. 


452 


MAUK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


not reach the other end of the table, where sat her hus- 
band and her son-in-law Jerome. 

The latter was not slow in taking the hint of returning 
to the chief topic of interest. He began by feeling his 
way with the remark, — 

I wonder who will be chosen captain of the com- 
pany ? I think my father, one of the oldest settlers of the 
place ” 

“Oh, no, Jerome I I am not so very old — me. There 
is Bazaine is a great deal older ; and there’s old Augus- 
tin ” 

“ No, no, monsieur,” cried Donohue, seizing the idea. 
“ What your son means is, foremost in point of standing ; 
fittest to command the citizen military — the Canadian 
Fusileers, or whatever the honorable corps may be desig- 
nated. We want a man of position and influence. You 
shall be our major, for the Prairie Guards and the Fusil- 
eers can be formed into a battalion. You shall organize 
us, and drill us, and bring us into the field. All the 
world shall see how we acquit ourselves under such a 
leader I” 

“ I suppose it will be well, then, to order our new uni- 
forms at once,” chimed in Ewing. 

M. Tremblay looked from one to another, half bewildered, 
but wholly delighted. 

“ Oh, you speak dis 'rien que pour badiner,’”* he said. 

“ Not in the least — we are perfectly serious. You ara 
the proper man,” protested Donohue. “ We must call a 
meeting at once, and get the matter under way. We will 
nominate you, and there cannot be a doubt of your elec- 
tion. You are very popular ; I suppose you know that, 
don’t you?” 


*• Merely in jest. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 453 

“ Popular ? Dat I have got one ver’ large family — good 
many childrens ?” 

“ No, no, my dear sir ; that you have got a good many 
of the hearts of your fellow-citizens. Who is there that 
would not vote for the excellent Monsieur Tremblay 

“You tink so?” said Monsieur, swelling and looking a 
little pompous. “ Eh bien I It is one ver’ good ting to 
be populous — to have much people like me for captain. 
But for de drill, which I not comprend too much, and de 
exercise ” 

He looked ruefully at Donohue for a further suggestion. 

“ Oh, that is soon learned,” said the mischievous Irish- 
man. “ You can look on while your lieutenants put the 
men through their exercise, and you have merely to re- 
member all the different manoeuvres and their names.” 

“Non, non,” objected Monsieur, drawing himself up 
“ I shall do better as dat. I shall learn it all right-— me. 
When I be choose, den, de fust ting, I march straight up 
to de fort and call on one officer, my friend. An’ T kindly 
borrow de loan of his book of tick-tack, and I come home 
and set me dowm ; study my lesson ; learn it all, every 
word ; come out on de ground ; call out de orders to de 
company ; let dem see dey got one good general dat know 
someting. Dat de way I shall do my good duty comme 
il faut I” 


CHAPTER LXII. 

Miss McGregor returned home slowly, pondering, as 
she walked, upon her interview with young Tremblay. 
She had only her own heart to commune with now, for 
she had not resumed her accustomed intimacies which, 


454 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

before her journey East, had helped her to pass away the 
time. 

Moreover, she had laid aside her long-established custom 
of frequent confession. There were things now in her 
heart and in her life that she could not impart even to her 
spiritual director. She frequently caught herself wishing 
that she could dispose of all matters of conscience as easily 
as her friend Sophie. 

“ I always,” said that ingenious young lady, “ commence 
with, ‘ My father, I have not committed robbery — I have 
murdered no one ; of all the other sins of the calendar I 
confess myself guilty, and repent of them. Absolve me 
from my transgressions. ’ ” 

But could she indeed, like her friend Sophie, wipe out 
the sins of robbery and murder from her catalogue ? 

“ Oh, yes, yes,” she protested to herself. “ Tshah-nee- 
kah will be gentle and kind to my sister. He will take 
care that no harm happens to her 1” 

But what were Tshah-nee-kah’s antecedents? The 
question would force itself upon her. Whose hand had, as 
she never allowed herself to doubt, taken the life of the, in- 
nocent Gagnier ? And could she deny that she had calmly 
contemplated the possibility of the cruel chief’s adding to 
his list of atrocities ? Then, the manner in which she 
had enlisted Jerome m her service I Could she, even in 
the confessional, avow the arts by which she had gained 
his promise of aid in contriving that the militia should be 
withdrawn from their patrol on the evening succeeding 
the payment? 

Ah I if she could but go back to the innocent days when 
she was a school-girl at “the Ladies’!” when the trem- 
bling recital of her youthful peccadilloes was wont to be 
made to the good old Father Marcel, not seldom inter- 
rupted, in defiance of all rule and custom, by his astonished 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 455 

exclamation, “Tut, tut, tut I You do that again 1 Didn’t 
70U promise me you’d never do so any more ?” 

Alas I alas! the array that would now have to be pre- 
-sented would be such, Monica told herself, as to chain the 
tongue of even Father Marcel with horror. The avowal 
of what she meditated, no less than of what she had done, 
would insure, she well knew, penance upon penance. For 
them she cared little ; but it would also make certain the 
abortion of her schemes, and that she would not, could not 
risk. No ; let her enterprise Succeed, and Wau-nig-sootsh- 
kah be rescued, and she would make her peace with Heaven 
as she best might 1 This was ever the winding-up of her 
self-eommunings. 

The joint efforts of Jerome and Donohue, to which 
Ewing, not suspecting the possible consequences, lent a 
helping hand, were crowned with success. M. Tremblay 
was elected major of the battalion, comprising what re- 
mained of the Prairie Guards and the Canadian Fusileers 
— the latter chiefly recruited from the employes of the Fur 
Company, ±0 whom it was a matter of fun, first to aid in 
securing the election of M. Tremblay, as well as, afterwards, 
to witness the efforts of their new commander to discharge 
the duties of his position. The worthy gentleman’s plan 
of studying up his routine of duty did not work well. 
Being remarkably deficient in the power of memory, he 
would get the different orders inextricably confused in his 
mind, so that when he would take it upon himself to re- 
view his battalion, as he insisted on doing every evening 
after the regular drill, he was under the necessity of carry- 
ing his “ book of tick-tack” to the ground, by way of 
prompter. But here would arise another difficulty. Though 
he could read a little English, he was not sufficiently posted 
in military matters to understand the meaning of the orders 
which he read. If he could have issued the words of com- 


456 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

mand in French, it would have been better; as it was, his 
only resource was to beckon up his son Jerome from the 
ranks every time he became hopelessly puzzled — then 
whisper, — 

Quien, mon fils — qu’est-ce que 9a veut dire * — Shoulder 
ar ms 

Jerome would translate and explain. 

“ Tres-bien — retire-toi aux rangs with a wave of his 
hand towards the battalion. 

“ Shoulder — arms I” he would then thunder forth, in 
stentorian tones. 

Soon he would “get mired’’ again, as the farmers say, 
and again it would be, “Jerome, viens icite and once 
more Jerome, greatly to his annoyance, would be beckoned 
forward, to go through the ceremony of explanation. 

All this was highly amusing to the lookers-on, and it 
soon got to bo the regular afternoon recreation of the 
officers of the garrison to stroll to the militia parade- 
ground and enjoy an exhibition of military science. 

Madame Tremblay was indignant when she heard of these 
proceedings. 

“What will you have?” she asked of her new friend 
Mrs. Smart. “A Frenchman cannot be born a Yankee, 
let him try ever so hard. I dare say the major will do 
extremely well in time. Not that I think he will ever be a 
Napoleon — pas si bete. J’appelle un chat un chat, moi.”§ 
And Mrs. Smart, who had picked up a smattering of Cana- 
dian French from “ her Corbin,” nodded her head under- 
standingly, and gave her friend due sympathy. 

Thus matters went on till the day preceding the payment. 
Mr. McGregor had so far recovered as to be able to be 


* See here, my son, what does that mean ? 

t Very well — go back to the ranks. | Como here. 

§ I am not so silly. I call a cat a cat, for my part. 


3IARK LOGAN, TBE BOURGEOIS, 


45’7 


driven in his low calhche to the warehouse, to hold a talk 
with the Indians, and to admonish them upon the subject 
of quiet and peaceable behavior. 

Logan had found it indispensable to call upon his chief 
once or even twice a day during his seclusion, to report 
to him the progress of matters under his charge, or to 
furnish him with items which he fancied would be of 
interest. 

“No tidings of that young fellow from Quebec yet?” 
Mr. McGregor asked him, this morning. 

“ None whatever. I hailed a flat-boat that was passing 
down the river yesterday afternoon, and made inquiries if 
any one on board had seen or heard of such a person ; 
but the answer was the same as heretofore.” 

“My opinion is,” said Mr. McGregor, “ that the young 
man has gone to Europe ; Mallie says he probably was not 
without means for the. trip. Still, as his father seems 
greatly disturbed at the accounts they get of the Indian 
troubles, and makes, in his last letter, the suggestion that 
at the coming payment I should institute inquiries whether 
any such person has been heard of, either among our In- 
dians or among the loways, Sauks and Foxes, and so forth, 
I wish, in case I forget it, that you would remind me to 
touch upon the subject to-morrow.” 

Logan promised compliance with the request, and Mr. 
McGregor turned to another topic. 

“ The Indians seem arriving in very small numbers. I 
should say, from the few lodges scattered around, that 
not more than a fourth of the heads of families are 
present.” 

“And scarcely any women and children,” said Logan. 

“That is a singular circumstance,' — one that I do not 
like the looks of,” said Mr. McGregor. “ The women are 
the guardian angels of these people. If an unprincipled 

39 


458 


MARK LOG AM, THE BOURGEOIS. 


trader, or other person, has contrived to evade the law 
and furnish the men with liquor, the women immediately 
gather up all the knives and other weapons of their hus- 
bands, brothers, and sweethearts, and hide them, so that 
if there should arise, as is most likely, a drunken quarrel, 
the participants in it can do each other but little mis- 
chief.” 

“ But if their object is an attack on the whites, I pre- 
sume we need not count on the influence of the women to 
prevent it ?” 

“ I suppose not,” said Mr. McGregor. 

“ Then the absence of the women must doubtless be 
looked upon as an alarming augury ?” 

^‘Alarming? Well, yes; we may as well own it, for, 
after all, there is no such thing as being brave with such a 
foe. We never know what they will be at. I shall talk 
very plainly to the chiefs ; and as they will see our friend 
Tremblay and his forces by-and-by,” he added, with a 
smile, “ we will hope that they may be thoroughly in- 
timidated.” 

“I suppose,”' said the young man, with a little hesita- 
tion, “ there is no danger of their making an unpleasant 
visit to your own home, sir ?” 

“ Oh, no — not in the least. Monica is present, and, in 
fact, they regard us as of themselves. It is only in be- 
half of the poor unprotected settlers on the outskirts that 
I have any fears.” 

Still, would it not be wisest to stand upon one^s guard 
— to assume that in the present excited state of feeling 
they mean mischief whenever and wherever they can find 
an opportunity for practising it?” 

“Of course all must be upon their guard. My obser- 
vation of the Indians, however, makes me pretty sure that 
they are going to practise no mischief under the guns of a 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 459 

fort, with militia companies ready to rush into the field at 
•beat of drum, and, moreover, with two of their number 
lying incarcerated and at the hazard of any retribution 
that the strongest party — that is, the Government — may 
think fit to mete out to them.” 

Logan saw it was in vain to attempt to open the eyes 
of his chief to the existence of a danger W’^hose nature he 
could not declare to him. There remained only to keep up 
an anxious vigil, and to reiterate to Madeleine the strong- 
est injunctions to watchfulness and circumspection. 


CHAPTER LXIII. 

Miss McGregor had been in a state of nervous excite- 
ment for many days preceding the payment. 

She had had frequent interviews with Jerome, gener- 
ally in stealthy walks along the river-bank which extended 
at the foot of her father’s garden. At the evening hour 
she selected there was little danger of encountering even 
a chance passer-by, by whom their conference might be ob- 
served. 

She had bound the young man to her, as he said, “ body 
and soul.” She felt certain that he would not hesitate 
even at crime, should she require at his hands the commis- 
sion of such. He had engaged that the military patrols 
should all, at a given hour, be disposed in precisely the 
directions where they could be of no avail when wanted ; 
and as his guerdon, he had already received more of grace 
and favor than he had dared to hope would be vouchsafed 
him until his task should be fulfilled. 


460 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS, 


Monica, to insure success, had gone further than she 
intended; but what of that? She could retrace her steps, 
she assured herself, when reserve should not be impolitic ; 
till then she must do as cii’cumstanccs demanded. The 
end would justify the means. 

The time, however, was flitting rapidly, and she heard 
nothing from Tshah-nee-kah. Her Barribault messenger 
had not returned, nor had any other emissary come to 
apprise her of the concurrence of the old chief in what- 
ever arrangements she might make. As her thoughts 
grew dark and gloomy in the anticipation of a possible 
failure, her feelings towards her sister were less those of 
compunction than of added bitterness, as if she were some- 
how accountable for this disappointment of her schemes. 

The window of her apartment looked out over the 
wide-extended plain whence the settlement derives its 
name, and which at this period could boast of few habita- 
tions, save the small hamlet of St. Friol, as it was called, 
and a few scattered dwellings of the Canadian settlers. 

Although it wanted now but one day of the payment, 
she could discern, as her eye took in the whole view 
towards the base of the cliffs', only here and there a matted 
lodge, giving token of the arrival of chief or brave or 
head of a family. 

What could it mean ? The scene was less animated 
than in former days she might have witnessed it on any 
bright autumnal morning. She resolved to walk down to 
the vicinity of the magasin and seek for information. She 
might at least, she thought, learn what the prospect was 
of a general assembling of the head men on the following 
day. She put on her ha_^and shawl, and slipped quietly 
out through a side gate, that she might, by a little circuit, 
reach the high-road wUhout attracting the observation of 
her sister. 


MARK LOGANy THE BOURGEOIS. 


461 


As she passed through into the lane, she came suddenly 
upon an Indian woman seated upon the ground, with a 
sack of netted cordage beside her, the strap of which, 
lying upon her knees, showed that the burden had been 
carried in the manner of a ‘‘pack.” 

“ Bon-jour I” was the salutation of the woman as she 
rose to her feet. Then followed the hesitating query, 
Mau-nee-kah V 

“I am Mau-nee-kah. You have brought me a mes- 
sage ?” 

“ Yes. Tshah-nee-kah has sent me.” 

“He is here? That is, he is in one of the lodges 
yonder ?” 

“ No ; he is at the Four Lakes.” 

“ You mean he-was there when you started, but he will 
be here to-day — to-night — ^or to-morrow morning ? He 
should have hurried. There is no time to lose; the pay- 
ment begins to-morrow.” 

“ Tshah-nee-kah will not come to the payment.” 

“Not come to the payment? Who has he sent in his 
stead ?” 

“ Some of the young men in his lodge will bring his 
bundle of sticks.”* 

“ Does he send one of his young men to me, in his 
place?” 

“ I do not know. Tshah-nee-kah said nothing to me.” 

“ What message did he give you, then ?” said Miss Me. 
Gregor, trembling with agitation. 

“ That he should not come to Tee-pee-sau-kee with the 
rest.” : ; 

“ He has always attended the payments before.” 


* A slender bit of stick for each member of a family is the tally by which 
the Agent apportions the amount of coin to which each lodge is entitled. 

39 * 


462 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Yes. The Big Knives were his friends then.^* 

“Are none of the chiefs coming 

“Yes. Naw-kaw, and Day-kau-ray, and Hoo-wau-nee- 
kah, and Kau-ray-kau-sah-kah.” 

“ They are brave men — they are not afraid I And Tshah- 
nee-kah,’’ with a look of intense scorn, “ is afraid, I sup- 
pose.’^ 

“ Perhaps.” 

“ He thinks, may-be,” said Monica, forgetting prudence 
in her excitement, “ that the widow Gagnier’s eyes will 
be scanning sharply all those who come to receive their 
silver.” 

There was a dark flash from the Puan woman^s eyes, 
but not a muscle of her face moved, nor did she utter a 
word in reply. 

Miss McGregor recollected herself. 

“ Tshah-nee-kah will, however, not forget,” she said, 
“ that his friends lie chained in prison — that his relative 
Wau-nig-sootsh-kah will succumb and take his departure 
for the spirit-land if he is left much longer to pine in dark- 
ness and solitude. When Tshah-nee-kah walks, a free man, 
across the broad prairies, and breathes the wholesome, 
pleasant air, he will remember that there is a way by 
which those fast bound in misery can be set free, and he 
will come to Mau-nee-kah to learn how to play bis part in 
the matter.” 

“Tshah-nee-kah will not forget his friends,” said the 
woman, briefly. 

“Then by-and-by — when he judges it best — when suc- 
cess is most sure, I will expect him. Let him send and 
apprise me. Together we can concert measures. Tell him 
that Mau-nee-kah had everything arranged, so that the plan 
we had spoken of together could not have failed. Now we 
shall have to contrive some other scheme. Tell him to let 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


463 


the time not be long. Tell him that Wau-nig-sootsh-kah’s 
friends here are forbidden to see him — that there are none 
to cheer him in his gloomy cell — that his heart will 
break ” 

She stopped as she found her voice growing less assured. 

The woman stooped and gathered her sack into her arm. 
She did not pass the strap over her forehead, neither did 
she, according to the custom of her people, throw the con- 
tents of the bag at the feet of the one to whom she had 
come with the message. She was turning away without 
again looking upon Miss McGregor. There was something 
stately in her air. She was tall and well formed, and her 
face had less of the tanned and haggard look than is usually 
seen in the women of her people after they have passed 
their early youth. There were also a neatness and taste in 
her dress beyond what are ordinarily observable. 

‘‘You will be careful to deliver my message to Tshah- 
nee-kah 1” the young lady repeated, in an earnest tone. 
“You will not forget V' 

“ I will not forget,’’ said the woman, in a deep tone that 
startled her hearer. Like lightning it flashed across her 
who it was that had sought the interview. She made a 
step forward and laid her hand upon the arm of the 
stranger. 

“ Way-noo-nah I” she exclaimed. 

The two women looked at each other, and there was in 
the eyes of each the same glare of deep and deadly hatred. 

It was not tempered in the Christian young lady by any 
sentiment that raised her above the heathen child of the 
forest. She was gazing upon her rival — the one who had 
a right to love the Red Bird — who could perhaps claim the 
privilege of visiting him and ministering to him, should it 
please her so to do. 

And, with strange inconsistency, Monica hated her the 


464 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


more that she had manifested no sensibility when the 
sad and suffering estate of the young chief had been al- 
luded to. 

She longed to ask if it were Way-noo-nah’s intention to 
seek an interview with her husband. Her husband ? Was 
it for another woman’s husband that she was wearing out 
her life in grief and longing ? Oh, no, no ! The Red 
Bird did not now belong to the daughter of Tshah-nee-kah. 
She had herself broken the tie that had bound them to- 
gether — so, at least, Monica strove to persuade herself, as 
her gaze continued riveted on that of Way-noo-nah. 

Whether the latter divined aught of what was passing in 
her companion’s mind she gave no sign, except by a more 
rigid and, as Monica fancied, a more defiant look; then 
she turned away, with the quiet words, — 

“ I will give your message to Tshah-nee-kah. Way-noo- 
nah does not forget.” She passed the strap of her slight 
burden across her forehead, and took her way in the direc- 
tion of the warehouses. 

Miss McGregor remained standing in the same spot, 
gazing after the retreating form of the young woman. 
She saw her turn aside towards the homely little structure 
which fulfilled the office of a jail, and her heart beat almost 
to suffocation. 

“ She is going there 1 She will obtain permission to see 
him I” such were her torturing thoughts; “his condition 
may awaken her tenderness, if, indeed, it has ever slum- 
bered. Who knows but this act of devotion may call forth 
a sentiment of affection in the breast of one to whom kind 
words and ministrations have been long strangers!” 

She waited and watched. Way-noo-nah turned past the 
front of the little building, then was lost to view. 

Had she entered, or was she pursuing her way towards 
some one of the lodges in the distance ? 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


465 


While pondering these questions, a step coming up the 
little lane from the river broke her meditations. 

It was Jerome, who, with beaming eyes and a sort of 
privileged, caressing air, took her hand. She had need of 
all her self-command to restrain her from flinging from him 
and making palpable the feeling of repulsion with which 
he inspired her. 

But this she dared not do. She must tolerate him a 
little longer. She had registered a vow in her own heart, 
though surely in no more holy place, that she would effect 
the liberation of Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, and that object had 
acquired double importance within the last half-hour ; for 
was there not now the added incentive of separating him 
from Way-noo-nah ? And could anything be accomplished 
unless she had ever at her beck and call a devoted slave 
like the poor, infatuated Jerome ? 

Even these convictions, as they rushed through her 
mind, did not enable her to assume an air of gracious 
welcome as she addressed the young metif with, — 

“ Well, what is it, Jerome ?” 

“ I thought,” said the young man, with a blank look at 
this, unexpected change, “ that I had better come and, if 
possible, talk matters over a little with you. So I took 
my canoe and paddled up the river, while my bourgeois 
was engaged in the council-room acting as your father’s 
secretary. I think I might have done as well as M. 
Logan. I write a better hand, and I suppose I under- 
stand Puan quite as well as he can pretend to. If I 
had not met you, I was going to send you a little note 
to say that I was down under the willow-trees at the old 
place.” 

“It is not very pleasant to be obliged to say it,” said 
Miss McGregor, gloomily, “ but all that we have done and 
planned will go for nothing. Tshah-nee-kah does not 


466 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


come to the payment. I have just got a message to that 
effect.” 

“Not come? Oh, my poor Monique, what a disap- 
pointment for you I I thought there was something the 
matter,” he said, greatly relieved, and throwing a degree 
of tenderness into his accents for Avhich their object wished 
him under the waters of the Mississippi. “ But never 
mind; we will contrive something else. Confide in me. 
Do I not belong to jou ? Would I not move heaven and 
earth to carry out your slightest wish ? Have you thought 
what is to be done, now that everything has to be com- 
menced anew? No? Though of course you could not 
yet. What a blow ! Let me help you to bear it. Come 
with me, and sit for a little while down on the river-bank, 
and lean your head on my shoulder and let me comfort 
you.” 

Miss McGregor started, almost as if an adder had 
stuug her. Had she, in her reckless pursuit of her schemes, 
brought herself to this? Did Jerome feel that he might 
presume in this way ? And how was she to shake him 
off? How was she even to keep him at a distance ? Had 
she not leagued herself with him in such a way that she 
was in his power? To attempt to repulse him would be 
all the more dangerous because he was so weak-minded. 
He had, as she well knew, a certain strength of his own — 
it was in his will, his cunning, and his passions. 

She could not break with him, at least not at present. 
She forced herself to say with calmness, in answer to his 
invitation, — 

“No, Jerome, I cannot go to the river-bank now. It 
will soon be our dinner-hour, and my father will be in- 
quiring for me. Besides, of what use is it to attempt to 
plan anew, until we have well considered all circumstances 
and settled what we can do next r” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOUROEO/S. 


46*7 


“But we can consider and settle together, Monique. 
You cannot do without me, — you have said so. And I — 
! can I live a day without you ? Could I live an hour if 
I had not the sweet thoughts of all your goodness, all 
; your promises, to feed my heart upon 

Miss McGregor’s thoughts were very bitter, as she said, 
i mentally, “Always harping upon that string ! Yerily, my 
punishment has begun I” Then she added, aloud, — 
“You will understand, Jerome, that this disappoint- 
ment has been a terrible shock to me. It has made me 
almost ill, and I must get to my room and lie down awhile 
to recover myself.” 

“It is so amiable in you, my poor angel, to care so 
much for this unhappy Oiseau Rouge, who is not, after 
all, so nearly related to you as the Black Wolf or the 
Little Thunder.” Then, observing that the brow of his 
lady-love contracted, he added, with passionate tenderness, 
“You are so unhappy, and I can do nothing for you I 

Only promise me that you will come this evening ” 

But Miss McGregor, suddenly exclaiming, “ There 
comes my father 1” broke from him and retreated through 
the gate, while the young man, with the celerity and 
adroitness of his mother’s people, slipped away to his 
canoe and paddled himself back to his post of duty in the 
warehouse. 


468 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER LXIY. 

Monica with effort summoned sufficient composure to 
meet her father at dinner ; that task over, she was at ! 
liberty to retire to the seclusion of her room and meditate. 

The most bitter ingredient in her cup was not the dis- 
appointment of learning that Tshah-uee-kah would fail to 
attend the payment. She doubted not that his own saga- 
city had taught him that a later and more quiet season 
would be the one best suited to the execution of their 
plans. 

“If only that season would not be too long delayed I 
If the Red Bird would not be left in chains and darkness 
till his spirit would sustain him no longer I If he would 
but have faith in her efforts for his release 1 If he would 
trust to the promise that she had at least implied, to fly 
with him and be his in the regions far beyond the ken of 
their hereditary enemies I” 

But there had come this new source of torment — Way- 
noo*nah’s visit to the Red Bird. What might be its re- 
sult ? The time had been when Monica would have been 
humbled to the dust at the thought of such speculations ; 
but she was of late gradually losing whatever tenderness 
of conscience she had formerly possessed to admonish her 
in the path of duty. 

There was also another and more immediate source of 
perplexity, — the attitude which Jerome was assuming. 
How had she permitted him to insinuate himself into the 
position to which he now evidently felt himself entitled? 
She had, as she now believed, over-estimated his impor- 
tance as an aid in carrying out her plans ; and yet there 


MARK LOO AN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


469 


was just a possibility that an emergency might arise in 
which his services would be indispensable : therefore she 
did not dare to break with him. 

Indeed, for other reasons she would not have ventured. 
Had she not, in order to secure his co-operation, imparted 
to him the whole scheme she had concerted with Tshah- 
nee-kah, even revealing to him the name of the hostage 
of whom the unscrupulous Puan was to possess himself? 
Had she not worked upon the youn^ fellow’s love for his 
mother’s people, by representing her sister’s hostility to 
them, until every hesitation on his part had been over- 
come, and his entire concurrence in her scheme pledged ? 
And had she not held out hopes to Jerome which it would 
not be safe to disappoint ? Her heart died within her as 
she reflected that he was capable of meeting treachery 
with treachery, and of blazoning abroad to the world, 
and, most terrible of all, to her father himself, ‘‘ thus and 
thus has she done.” 

On the other hand, quietly to tolerate the attitude that 
he had this day as a matter of right assumed, every 
womanly instinct revolted against that. Revolted, now 
that she gave the matter consideration and reflection, 
though it did not escape her recollection that she had, on 
more than one occasion, while rehearsing to him the 
wrongs of their people and the sufferings of their friend 
whose rescue they were planning, allowed him to feel that 
his caresses and words of tenderness had power to soothe 
her. 

She had said to herself that Jerome was a simple boy, 
with whom a feeling of admiration was a mere passing 
fancy — that he was one whom she could. whistle off at 
will. 

Jerome, however, she now understood, was no boy. 
He had already reminded her that he was three-and- 

40 


m 


MAPK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


twenty — only a few months younger than herself. He 
had told her that she had been the idol of his heart ever 
since he had been of an age to contrast the homeliness of 
others of his circle of acquaintance with the beauty, 
grace, and charm of which she was the embodiment ; and 
she could not disguise from herself that under the influ- 
ence of some sentiment of gfatified vanity, or else when 
she had some point td gairt, she had both permitted and 
promised that which might t^ell be understood as a re- 
ciprocation of the feelhig she had inspired. 

That she had inveigled and, to express it in plain terms, 
heiJoitclied Jerome, she now found to her cost ; and how 
was it to end ? She hardly dared to contemplate. 

The important point, she saw, was, in the first place, to 
secure herself, for the present, against any more tete-iV 
tetes with him. She would retain her hold on him just 
sufficiently to make him of avail when the time should 
come for Tshah-nee-kah to signify his readiness to act his 
part in the drama ; but she would take care to give the 
young man no opportunity of presuming 6n past conde- 
scension. She would be more in her sister’s society than 
heretofore. With Madeleine by her side, Jerome would 
be restricted to commonplaces, and perhaps for want of 
fuel the flame which threatened such mischief would burn 
itself out. She regretted, now, that she had so promptly 
and positively declined an invitation from the wife of the 
commanding officer, to dine with her on the day of the 
payment. Constant engagements in visiting, and com- 
munication with Jerome only in writing, must now be her 
policy. 

She must of- necessity be af the payment;' it was a 
point that did not admit of question, as she would have 
need of all the money that would fall to her share. Her 
father had given her a gentle hint that he should prefer 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 4^1 

her name should not figure upon the pay-rolls ; but on her 
objecting that her mother’s friends would regard its with- 
drawal as a signal mark of contempt, he had urged the 
matter no further. 

“ I would on no account have stayed away from the 
payment,” she said to herself, “for I shall doubtless see 
some of Tshah-nee-kah’s family there, and perhaps be 
made acquainted with his plans. But I could have ac- 
companied my father and Madeleine to visit Mrs. Arm- 
strong, at the garrison, after it was over, and remained 
there for the evening. Now, after having Jerome by my 
side the whole forenoon, for he will be there to represent 
his mother’s children, he will probably insist on coming, 
home with me, and, at the very least, I shall be forced to 
listen, without once daring to frown upon his protestations, 
his hopes, and his everlasting gratitude. I cannot, and I 
will not. I will sooner go home with my godmother, 
Madame Jarrot, and spend a long, tedious afternoon listen- 
ing to Sophie’s insignificant chatter, or the jeremiads of 
the old people upon the degeneracy of the times, and the 
excellent fashions of the good old days in La Marriale.” 

In conformity with the plan she had marked out, 
Monica joined her father and sister in the library, after 
tea — a thing by no means customary. She did not find 
them alone. 

The young bourgeois had responded with alacrity to 
the request of Mr. McG-regor that he would act as his 
secretary in his talk with the Indians. Not that there 
was really occasion for preserving minutes of, proceedings 
so informal j but the careful master conducted all his 
affairs with the same degree of system that he exacted 
from those in his employ ; and it was because Logan fell 
in so naturally with his ideas, that he was becoming more 
and more an object of esteem and regard. 


412 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


The young man had a reason of his own for hailing with 
joy this invitation to the council-room. He hoped it might 
furnish him with an opportunity of making observations, 
and perhaps gaining information about the much-dreaded 
Tshah-nee-kah (he carefully treasured up the name), who 
was associated in his mind with the mischief that he felt 
sure Miss McGregor was plotting against her sister. 

He listened attentively, and transcHbed carefully all that 
fell from the lips of the interpreter. There was nothing, 
however, to throw light upon the subject nearest his heart. 

The invariable “he says, says he, would be followed 
by professions of peaceful intentions, a repudiation of the 
action of their misguided friends in the Gagnier matter, 
and a defihing of their own position as obedient and dutiful 
children of their Great Father, the President. 

“And yet there must be a serpent somewhere,” Logan 
said to himself. “ Moa-way would not, immediately after 
the interview between Miss McGregor and some of the 
members of her tribe at the Barribault, have cautioned me 
to ‘ beware of those who did not love the little one,’ unless 
he had good grounds for believing that danger menaced 
her. Nor would Miss McGregor have been making assig- 
nations with this person, the Autumn, whom she supposed 
to be at the Barribault, unless there was some mischievous 
complicity between them.” 

He meditated writing a note to Madeleine, warning her 
to keep in memory his oft-repeated injunctions, and he had 
in his mind selected Ewing as the bearer of the note, when 
relief came to his anxiety, in the shape of a request from 
Mr. McGregor that he would send to his house certain 
books and papers which he wished to examine at his leisure, 
and, if it would not be too much trouble, that he would 
spend a part of the evening in going over them and explain- 
ing them to him. The ready compliance of the bourgeois 


f- 

!; MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 4'73 

awakened some such thought as this in the breast of his 
^ chief; — 

“I am really infinitely obliged to Patterson for sending 
this young fellow to me I IIow different is his cheerful as- 
sent from what would have been the air of another clerk 
on being called to give up an evening’s enjoyment to help 
me with these dry business details ! Logan is to be de- 
pended on in every point of view.” 


CHAPTER LXY. 

The presence of the elder sister in the library did not 
add to the satisfaction of the young bourgeois. 

He knew that her eyes were watchful even when she 
seemed most absorbed in her work. It was only now and 
then that he could venture a glance at the object of his love 
and solicitude, as she flitted about in her unsuspecting inno- 
cence, now suggesting something for her father’s comfort 
— now oflering some little service to her sister, whose un- 
wonted visit seemed to entitle her to all the rites of hos- 
pitality. 

Logan had written the note, as he proposed, and in it he 
had besought her at no time to leave home, not even for 
the shortest possible walk, without an escort who could, if 
need were, prove also a defender. He feared that it might 
alarm her; but this he must venture, the danger that beset 
her seeming to him now so imminent. 

He was turning in his mind, as the office business which 
had brought him drew towards a close, various schemes 
for passing his note to her undetected. An opportunity 
was unexpectedly afforded him by the entrance of a 

40 * 


4U MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

metive servant with a whispered message to Miss Mc- 
Gregor. 

The young lady’s look of vexation did not escape him as 
she gathered up her working-materials and, thrusting them 
into her basket of embroidered bark, followed Cateesh from 
the apartment. That she had gone to receive an unwel- 
come visitor Logan did not doubt ; but he was greatly puz- 
zled when he recognized through the door, which Monica 
had purposely left open, the voice which was tenderly ad- 
dressing her. 

^‘Jerome Tremblay I and she to receive the announce- 
ment with such a look !” he said to himself. “ Why, I 
thought they were sworn friends — almost lovers. Indeed, 
I have at times feared there might be a complicity of some 
sort between them. What can it mean ?” 

He could not overhear what the tone of the young man’s 
reception was, for Mr. McGregor was prompt with the re- 
quest, — 

“ Mallie, dear, will you be so good as to close the door ? 
These chilly evenings admonish us to be prudent.” 

And Madeleine disappointed her sister also by shutting 
the door upon her. 

Jerome was standing when Monica entered. She found 
her hand eagerly seized, while he poured forth the most 
anxious inquiries about her headache of the morning, 
mingled with assurances of his wretchedness at the thought 
of her suffering, and ending with the carrying of her hand 
to his lips with the most passionate fervor. 

Extricating herself with little ceremony. Miss McGregor 
rang the bell and ordered another candle, in spite of the 
whispered remonstrance; — 

“ Not for me. I prefer less light, for my part.” 

And when the little maiden had quitted the room, she 
had great difficulty to prevent Jerome from embracing her 


MARK LOGANy THE BOURGEOIS. 


475 


in his ecstasy at learning that her headache had left her, and 
that she was perfectly free from any feeling of indisposition- 

“Now,’’ said Monica, drawing a little table towards her 
and seating herself in the most matter-of-fact manner, 
“ during the few minutes I have to spare from my father, 
let us discourse seriously, Jerome, about the present aspect 
of affairs. You will, of course, excuse me if I go on with 
my work when I tell you that it is for a young lady, and 
that I am anxious Jo complete it as soon as possible.” 

“ All your wishes are commands to me, as you very 
well know, my beloved ; but is it necessary for the sake of 
others to put ourselves, our feelings, and our happiness so 
entirely aside that we may not make the most of these few 
precious moments ? The occasions granted to us are so 
rare!” 

“ Ah I my friend,” said Monica, in her softest, sweetest 
accents, “ are not all our moments happy, compared with 
those of our relatives, whose wretchedness we have bound 
ourselves to ameliorate ? Can we, sitting here side by side, 
free, surrounded by every comfort, refuse to give our first 
thoughts to the sacred duty we owe them ? Can we not 
be contented to wait yet a little while, before making our 
own happiness the subject of consideration ?” 

Wee-kau was the cousin of Jerome’s mother, as Miss 
McGregor well knew; her appeal to his natural sensibility 
did not, however, awake an answering chord. 

“But, Monique, my angel,” he remonstrated, “I have 
not your grandeur of soul. I cannot put myself behind 
others. I must talk of my love for you a little — just a few 
words. I know it is selfish, but I love to be selfish where 
you are in question^ ” 

“ What I was going to say/’ interrupted Monica, who 
sawAhat she must put a stop to the turn the conversation 
was taking, “ is this — that if you could contrive to see 


416 ^ARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 

L’Oiseau Rouge in his prison, he might make some sug- 
gestion that would be of service in the furtherance of our 
object. Think what joy to him to know that he has friends 
laboring for him ! You will make the effort to obtain an 
interview, will you not, Jerome ? That is,’’ she added, in 
those soft, persuasive accents that were so sure to intoxi- 
cate him, “ if you think it a good idea. If not — if you 
have anything better to propose, let me hear it. There is 
no doubt that Tshah-nee-kah will send us a message as 
soon as all is quiet and the people of the Prairie thrown 
off their guard. Now that we reflect upon it, we can easily 
understand that the old chief could not have shown himself 
at the payment. Madame Gagnier might have recognized 
him and denounced him before both citizens and military. 
He has his own way of co-operating with us, you may 
depend. With you to rely on, Jerome, I feel that we 
cannot ultimately fail.” 

“ But, Monique,” said Jerome, somewhat sobered by her 
persistent avoidance of the topic he so longed to engage 
her upon, “ have you ever thought what will happen if we 
do finally fail ? — if, by any chance, what you have under- 
taken should become known ?” 

She raised her eyes searchingly to his face. Did he in- 
tend this as a menace ? 

“Yes,” she replied, quietly, “I have counted all the 
chances as well as all the cost. If we succeed, why, of 
course, all that is to follow is well understood. If, on the 
contrary, circumstances of whatever nature defeat the hopes 
I have so much at heart — if my relative perishes on the 
scaffold,” she shuddered in spite of herself, “ or if my 
efforts in his behalf become known, — for, of course, I under- 
stand that being known they will be reprobated by all 
who hate our race, — then, happily, I have a resource. It 
is a blessed thing that in our Church there is a refuge 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 4*77 

where all who are disgusted with the treachery of their 
fellows, or the heartlessness of a cold, unsympathizing 
world, may bury themselves forever, — where even their 
very name may be blotted out and forgotten.” 

The young man turned pale. 

“You would never take the veil, Monique?” he said. 

“ Most assuredly I should, in the event of a disappoint- 
ment such as you suggest.” 

“ You cannot love me if you can calmly contemplate such 
a step.” 

“ Did no one who loved ever seek refuge in a convent?” 
she asked, evasively. “ Occasions may arise when there 
is nothing left but to crush out all earthly affections and 
become the bride of Heaven.” 

Jerome was not eloquent except when under the influ- 
ence of passion. He was quite awe-struck at the image 
his beloved had conjured up. He had nothing to oppose 
to the fine sentiments she expressed, save assurances that, 
as far as matters depended on him, she should not suffer 
the faintest shadow of disappointment. He undertook 
without further hesitation to see the jailer, and obtain, at 
whatever cost, an interview with L’Oiseau Rouge, which, 
if productive of no other effect, would at least sustain the 
hopes and cheerfulness of the captives until the appointed 
hour for their ransom. Monica remembered to speak of 
them in the plural number, although she could not disguise 
from herself that the fate of Wee-kau was a matter of per- 
fect indifference to her. 

There was the sound of a movement in the next 
room, and of voices, as if the bourgeois were about taking 
leave. 

A few words between the father and daughter furnished 
Logan and the young lady herself food for after- thought. 

“ Papa,” Madeleine had said, “ I promised Mrs. Arm- 


478 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


strong that, if you approved, I would spend the day with 
her to-morrow at the garrison ; but I had quite forgotten 
that it was the day of the payment.” 

“ Well, what of that, my daughter ? What has that to 
do with the question of your going 

“ I supposed I might perhaps have to go to the payment 
— that was all.” 

“ And why should you have to go, my dear ?” asked her 
father, gravely. 

“ I do not know, sir,” said Madeleine, with heightened 
color and a little hesitation — “ only-— my sister always goes, 
she says.” 

“ Monica can do as she pleases. If she consulted my 
ideas of what is best, she would stay away. As for you, 
my child, yoa have nothing whatever to do with the 
annuities. Go to Mrs. Armstrong’s, as you have promised, 
and I will meet you there at dinner.” 

Madeleine glanced at Logan, to see if he understood her 
father’s words as she did. His smile was very bright, — in 
that there was nothing unusual ; but she thought there 
was a gleam of satisfaction in his eye that she interpreted 
in accordance with the significance she gave to her father’s 
remarks. 


CHAPTER LXYI. 

The Fort Crawford of that day was an assemblage of 
rickety wooden buildings inclosed in a dilapidated wall 
of pickets, and standing on the banks of the Mississippi 
at some little distance from the Fur Company’s estab- 
lishment. 

Around the latter, and under the protection of the guns 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


4Y9 

of the Fort, had naturally clustered the homes of the settlers, 
who were few in number and simple and primitive in their 
customs ; the latter not having yet become greatly modified, 
either by intercourse with the more stylish inhabitants of 
the garrison, or by the fermenting influence of Yankee 
enterprise, which, in the course of time, helped to change, 
and finally almost to banish, the usages which had de- 
scended from generation to generation since the days of 
the first voyageurs. 

Mr. McGregor^s residence was still beyond the Fort, as 
one ascended the river ; it was not, however, more than a 
pleasant walk from the settlement, with the little stockade 
half-way between the two. 

Finding, after breakfast, that Monica persisted in her reso- 
lution of attending the payment, her father requested her to 
be ready at an early hour to accompany him in the caliche 
in which he was to drive himself to the appointed spot, — a 
large open space in front of the building in which the chiefs 
had held their talk with Nar-zee-kah* on the previous day. 

Monica received this intimation with peculiar satisfac- 
tion ; for Jerome, who, as well as the other clerks, was ex- 
cused from duty for the day, had come dressed in his best, 
to offer himself as her escort to the ground. 

It did not escape the young metif that the greeting of 
his lady-love was greatly in contrast to his own fervent 
one ; and, as he watched her closely, he could not be de- 
ceived as to the alacrity with which she responded to her 
father’s invitation. 

“ What does it mean he said, pondering. Have I 
offended her? If what she has so often assured me of is 
true, she cannot be annoyed at my seizing every oppor- 
tunity to show her my love ; and yet she seems to be 


* The yellow-haired — Mr. McGregor, 


480 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


almost vexed. Can it be that she expected me to go so 
early this morning to the jail, to bring her word about 
L’Oiseau Rouge ? Why should his feelings and peace of 
mind be of so much more consequence to her than mine 

Miss McGregor’s thought^ being somewhat preoccupied, 
she did not observe the darkening of Jerome’s countenance 
as he revolved these questions in his mind. An idea had 
occurred to her, which found shape in the sudden in- 
quiry,— 

“ Papa, is there any one to walk with my sister to the 
Port? I suppose Baptiste and Cateesh are both making 
ready for the payment, and will not like to be delayed in 
getting to their right places. Yet it will not do to have 
Madeleine enter the Fort alone. I dare say Jerome will 
escort her; won't you, Jerome? It cannot detain you 
more than a few minutes, and it is hardly probable the 
Agent will begin the payment for an hour yet.” 

Jerome had been on the point of taking his leave, that 
he might hasten to the ground and make ready a sheltered, 
comfortable seat to which he could conduct Monica on her 
arrival. 

Feeling certain that her father would not venture to re- 
main for a great length of time in the open air, warm and 
summer-like though the day proved to be, he had been 
saying, mentally, “After a time I shall have her all to my- 
self, and I will know what I am to understand by all 
this !” 

But Jerome had the true French politeness, and when 
Mr. McGregor, concurring in his daughter’s suggestion, 
addressed him with, “ If you would be so very kind, Je- 
rome,” he was profuse in his assurances of “ the pleasure 
and the honor he should feel in being permitted to be of 
service to his daughter.” 

So Jerome sat down to wait, for Madeleine was not 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


481 


quite ready, and Monica, who was on the watch for the 
caliche, notified her father the moment it came to the door, 
and, without a single regretful look, gave Jerome a simple 
“ au revoir,” and walked forth with an air as if she did 
not even expect him to help her into the vehicle. 

“ Not a smile ! not a single tender glance behind backs I^’ 
said Jerome, in the bitterness of his heart. “ I do not 
threaten much — me — but it will not be a very safe game 
for her to play, if she means what all this looks too much 
like.” 

Madeleine, fortunately, did not keep him waiting long. 
She came into the parlor looking so pretty and smiling, 
and with so many apologies, that Jerome was quite 
charmed into good humor, and really thought he did not 
regret putting his own plans and intentions aside for the 
sake of conducting her safely to the door of the com- 
manding officer’s quarters. This accomplished, he walked 
brislily to the pay-ground, and had the mortification of 
seeing Miss McGregor nicely installed upon a bench of 
boards placed across stools and covered with a piece of 
strouding; all of which had been improvised by other 
gallantry than his own. Madame Jarrot sat on one side 
of her, and the bourgeois on the other, — Ewing, with a 
large number of citizens of both sexes, and such of the 
officers as were not to assist in the distribution of the 
silver, being seated or standing near, as convenience or 
choice dictated ; and as Jerome glided in among them and 
stationed himself close behind Miss McGregor, he said to 
himself, — 

“ It may be as well that she should not be aware I am 
so near. Something may occur to furnish an explanation 
of her manner to me.” 

There had been no want of promptness on the part of 
the Indians in assembling. They were seated upon the 

41 


482 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


ground in a large semicircle, two -or three deep, in front 
of the pay-table, at which were the Agent, the command- 
ing officer, and two or three of inferior rank, with a couple 
of clerks.' 

Before the Agent lay his pay-rolls, and at his right hand 
were placed one or two boxes of silver coin, while others 
stood at his feet, ready to replace the first as soon as they 
should be exhausted. 

The Agent was not a man to hurry himself; he did not 
compromise his dignity by consulting the convenience or 
the preferences of other people. He was not afraid of 
taking cold by remaining in the open air himself; if others 
were, that was their own look-out. A considerable time 
thus given for conversation was improved by the young 
bourgeois in questions and comments addressed to his fair 
companion. 

What a splendid body of men I I see not more than 
three or four who are even of medium size. I have been 
mentally comparing them with any assemblage of white 
men I have ever seen, and the contrast is certainly not in 
our favor.” 

Miss McGregor looked pleased. “ The present com- 
pany, for instance, perhaps,” she said, looking around at 
the different groups. 

■ ‘ Yes, tha;t as well as any. Except your father, and 
Major Armstrong, who is a well-built, powerful man, and 
— let me see— M. Tremblay is not amiss ; then Jerome, — 
I do not see him just now, — he is a fine, stalwart fellow.” 

“Jerome ! you would not compare him with the greater 
proportion of those young men ?” 

Her words were low. They were somewhat scornful, 
and they were perfectly audible to the one who stood lis- 
tening almost close to her shoulder. 

“Certainly,” said the bourgeois; “Jerome is a very 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


483 


well-made young man. He overtops the most of us, and 
then he is so light and active.” 

“ Well, we will not say anything about inches. I dare 
say you are right,” said Miss McGregor, carelessly. “ But 
did it ever occur to you to compare the two races after they 
have advanced in years? Take, for instance, Kar-ray-mau- 
nee, who is now in his eightieth year, and contrast him 
with M. Olivier, a man in good health and about the aver- 
age of his class. The one upright, elastic, with a vigor 
to sustain him through a long day’s hunt or march ; his 
voice, sonorous, his intellect clear and powerful. The other, 
tottering, feeble in his gait, with a ‘ piping treble’ in his 
voice.,; his proper sphere the arm-chair in the chimney-corner. 
And Kar-ray-mau-nee is not a solitary instance. There are 
Day-kau-ray, and Black Wolf, and Ma-zhee-gaw*gaw, and 
White Ox, elderly men, — I dare say they all walked every 
foot of the way from their villages to this place.” 

“ Well,” said Logan, smiling, “ if we must yield the 
palm in physical advantages, we may, I suppose, at least 
pride ourselves on a degree of intellectual superiority.” 

“I do not perceive it,” said Miss McGregor, quietly. 

“Are you serious? Do you not consider that we rank 
higher, if not in the scale of natural endowment, at least 
in that of mental cultivation?” 

“That depends upon what you call cultivation.- The 
sons of the forest have not acquired the arts of civilized 
life, as they are termed. They prefer to live in the imme- 
diate enjoyment of the works and gifts of the Great Cre- 
ator, and in communion with him through them. What are 
the books formed by man’s device, compared with the book 
of Nature, which is the study of the red man’s life? It 
is recorded in commendation of the wise King Solomon, 
that he knew every plant, from the cedar of Lebanon to 
the hyssop upon the wall ; but it nowhere says that for 


484 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


every one he had a legend, a parable, an illustration more 
fanciful and poetic, and at the same time more instructive, 
than either the sacred or profane classics can furnish. You 
pannot point to the most insignificant production of the 
Animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdom about which an In- 
dian could not tell you more than was ever dreamed of in 
your philosophy.” 

“J am not inclined to argue the point with you, even 
were I capable of matching your eloquence and enthusi- 
asm,” said the bourgeois. ‘' And just now, I believe, we 
are to have other matters to attend to. See, the Agent 
has spread out his pay-rolls, and is making ready to begin.” 

He was right ; for at this moment the name of the 
farthest band was called, in loud, pompous tones, — Four 
Legs’ Yillage ;” and as each head of a family heard 
himself named, he approached the pay-table and laid 
before the Agent the little bundle of sticks which denoted 
the number of inmates within his lodge. The silver was 
then drawn from the box b}^ one of the assistants, each 
man receiving the number of half- or quarter-dollars to 
which his whole domestic circle was entitled. 

Logan’s interest was intense as he watched band after 
band receive its quota and retire to make room for its suc- 
cessor. He almost started as he heard at length the call, 
“ Tay-tsho-bee-rah 1”* and he looked scrutinizingly at the 
group who came forward and stood in respectful, patient 
dignity, awaiting each the sound of his own name. 

“ Tshah-nee-kah I” was the first on the list. 

A handsome young man, with a lithe form and graceful, 
springing step, came forward and laid down his tally. 

“ That surely is not the chief ?” said the bourgeois to his 
companion. 


* The Four Lakes. 


MARK LOGAN-, THE BOURGEOIS. 


485 


No — a son-in-law, probably,” was the reply. 

“ And why not a son ?” inquired the young man. 

“ Because a son of that age would be married, and have 
gone to his wife’s family.” 

“ Ah ! then it is the fashion of the young ladies to marry 
on, instead of ‘ marrying off,’ as with us I” said Logan, 
much amused, but still keeping his eye fixed on the repre- 
sentative of Tshah-nee-kah. 

Miss McGregor made no reply — ^she too seemed entirely 
absorbed. Nobody but Jerome, who was in a position to 
watch every variation of her countenance, divined that she 
was endeavoring to catch the eye of the brother-in-law of 
Wau-nig-^ootsh-kah. Jealousy had preternaturally sharp- 
ened the perceptions of the lover, and his suspicions were 
beginning to take the direction of the incarcerated young 
chief. 

“ Madame Jarrot,” Monica presently asked of her neigh- 
bor, “can you tell me the name of the young man who 
received the silver for Tshah-nee-kah’s lodge?” 

“ No ; I do not know him, my child. I know L’Oiseau 
Rouge — and you, my poor dear, know him only too well. 
Ah I it was your cross, my poor petite,” said the old lady, 
in an accent of tender commiseration, “ and how like an 
angel you bore it I” 

‘ Please, not another word, my dear godmother,” said 
Monica, in a low, agitated tone. “If I could only find 
out the name of that young man I Will one of your sons 
be at home this noon ? If so, he will do a little errand for 
me.” 

“ Monique, are you coming to see the games this after- 
noon ?” said a voice close to her ear. She started. 

“ I don’t know, Jerome. I think not ; we shall all be so 
tired. Yet, on the whole, I think I will. There, have 
they not got through with the villagers ? If so, it will 

41 =*' 


486 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


next be our turn. Ma marraiM, when they call you, take 
my arm, and Jerome,” turning to him with one of her 
beaming smiles, will attend us, I know.” 

“ Certainly,” said Jerome ; but he added not another 
word. Her smile had no blandishment for him now : had 
she not spoken disparagingly of his personal appearance ? 
“I could not hav'e done so by her,” said the poor fellow. 

It is evident that it is no pleasure to her to hear me 
praised. Besides, she wanted to get rid of me this morn- 
ing — I do not forget that.” 


CHAPTER LXYII. 

The hours had glided away very pleasantly with Made- 
leine and Mrs. Armstrong, each summoning all her powers 
to amuse and entertain the other, when, just as the ani- 
mating strains of “ Roast Beef” were sounding across the 
parade, a succession of shrill whoops was heard from below 
the Fort. 

Both ladies threw down their embroidery and sprang to 
the window which looked out upon the river. 

Oh 1 the troops from Fort Howard I” they exclaimed, as 
boat after boat, some filled with soldiers and officers, others 
containing ladies and children, turned in at a little quay 
which jutted forth from the bank on which the stockade 
was placed. 

“ Ah!” said Madeleine, clasping her hands in delight, 
“ now you will see my friend whom I have been describing 
to you. I am sure you will like her, as well as admire her.” 

“ But, dear me !” sighed Mrs. Armstrong, “ how unfor- 
tunate that the quartermaster should be away at the pay- 


MARK LOGAN, TEE JBOUROEOIS. 


48Y 


meat 1 What will these poor ladies and children do for 
some place to put their heads in ? I know the colonel did 
not expect them for several days yet. I heard him tell the 
doctor so. I wish I knew whether I ought to ask them to 
come in here till they can have quarters assigned them. I 
wonder if the colonel would approve !” 

Madeleine thought the invitation a good idea. “ It would 
seem to look rather inhospitable/’ she said, ‘‘ to leave them 
any longer than was necessary in the little cramped boats, 
after such a long voyage.” 

A note was accordingly dispatched by her kind-hearted 
little hostess, offering the accommodation of her own quar- 
ters for the time being. 

There was no hesitation and but little delay on the part 
of the newly- arrived ladies, most of whom soon made their 
appearance in the quarters of the commanding officer. 
Very joyous and demonstrative was the meeting between 
the two young friends. Mrs. Holcomb was, however, the 
most voluble of the party. 

“What do you think?” she cried, “Mrs. Lovel has 
stolen my cousin away from me I she has, positively. I 
don’t know what papa will say to it, for you know Grace 
came out here on purpose to bear me company. However, 
since we are, as I have found out already, to be cut down 
to one room apiece in this crowded, shabby little place, I 
suppose her being with me would not have been particu- 
larly comfortable for any of the parties concerned. I tell 
Grace that if ever she is so unfortunate as to marry into 
the army she must look out for somebody high up on the 
list ; never mind if he is a little old or so ; and then she 
will have her pick of quarters, and crowd other people out 
as much as she pleases. Do you know,” in an audible 
whisper, “ that Hamilton was getting quite particular be- 
fore we left ? If we had not been hurried off so, I do think 


488 MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

he would have popped the question. How very confined 
the quarters here seem to be, ma’am I’^ to Mrs. Armstrong. 
“ It is fortunate that you are entitled to choose comfortable 
apartments, and so many of them I” Here she looked 
around with a critical and longing eye. “ But,” with a 
little laugh, “ we poor subs know better than to complain ; 
we understand what we are entitled to, or, rather, what we 
are not entitled to.” 

Some refreshments were presently brought in, and Mrs. 
Armstrong remarked, for the information of her guests, — 

‘‘1 think the gentlemen will not be back before tw’^o 
o’clock. They tell me it requires several hours to make 
the payment, and the military are obliged to be present. I 
have no doubt they will hurry all in their power, for the 
Indians are to have their games this afternoon, according 
to their usual custom.” 

“ Oh, delightful I” cried Mrs. Holcomb. “ I do long to 
see something of the kind 1 I am so unlucky, I never 
happen to get sight of anything amusing. I was quite 
determined to go up to the Butte des Morts treaty in the 
summer, on purpose to see all their pow-wowsand strange 
performances, but, somehow, I did not carry my point. 
Dear me I how unfortunate that the quartermaster is away ! 
After such a journey one naturally feels as if they wanted 
a place to put their heads in, and get their trunks un- 
packed, so that they can make themselves a little present- 
able. I’m sure I’m not fit to be seen 1 What with those 
children of Mrs. Bond’s” (in a half whisper), “I am sure 
my travelling-dress is wadded and faced with bread-and- 
butter. Of course all the ladies will go to see the games. 
It will not be necessary, I suppose, to make a very elab- 
orate toilet for the occasion.” 

“ Oh, by no means,” said Madeleine. 

Mrs. Armstrong endeavored, as soon as there was an 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


489 


interval in this chatter, to make some inquiries of Mrs. 
!bt)vel and Mrs. Bond in regard to their journey ; but Mrs, 
Holcomb soon broke in with a different subject 

“ By-the-by, Miss Madeleine, do you see much of Mr. 
Ewing? I think he was rather a favorite with somebody,’^ 
glancing at her cousin. “ What is he doing here ? And 
what sort of position does he occupy ? I thought him 
rather a nice young man, though I don’t remember that 
he was ever very attentive to me. ” 

Madeleine had detected the mounting color on her 
friend’s cheek at Mrs. Holcomb’s first question, and she 
was conscious' that her own complexion changed as the 
lady rattled on: — 

“And that fine-looking fellow that they called the bour- 
geois — what became of him ? Do you know I think 
Hamilton and Gaylord were both envious or jealous of 
him ? Captain Lovel did so like to plague them by talk- 
ing of his good looks’. Not that I think he had a very 
handsbme face — it was too sun-burnt. Why, one day, I 
remembel’, when he came down to the Fort to see the 
colonel about something or other, he looked as if his nos6 
had been all peeled. However, I don’t suppose that was 
of much consequence for a person in his situation.” 

“I do not imagine,” said Miss Latimer, “that gentle- 
men care particularly for such trifles as a fair, smooth 
complexion.” 

“ Don’t believe was the prompt reply. “ I don’t 
know how you can pretend to, when you have seen how 
my lord and master fidgets and colognes his face and in- 
spects himself in the glass if he spies so much as the wee- 
est little pimple or spot. I often hold that as a rod over 
him when I want to keep him — well, frcm doing like too 
many of his brother officers. ‘Take care, sir,’ I say ; ‘these 
things don’t make an Adonis of a man I’ Ob, fine looks 


490 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


are as important to their sex as to ours, and that they very 
soon find out. I often say to Holcomb, ‘ Look what they 
have done for you V ” with an affected laugh ; “ and he is 
too wise to gainsay facts.” 

Mrs. Holcomb, bent on improving the opportunity which 
she flattered herself might lead to an intimacy with the 
wife of the commanding officer, declined the civilities 
which were ere long tendered to her by the surgeon’s 
lady, and, with Mrs. Lovel and Grace, accepted an invi- 
tation to dine with Mrs. Armstrong. 

Madeleine was surprised to see how quickly she, by dint 
of adroit compliments and ingratiating remarks, evidently 
won upon their unsophisticated little hostess, who, after 
the arrival of the gentlemen to look up their feminine be- 
longings and carry them off to inspect the quarters 
assigned them, remarked with animation to her young 
friend, — 

“ What a very agreeable, chatty person Mrs. Holcomb 
is I So much more attractive than her cousin. I think I 
shall like her very much. I hope the colonel will take to 
her, and see no objection to our being a great deal to- 
gether. To be sure, as a general rule, he rather prefers 
silent ladies. Ah I you need not smile ; I do not talk 
much before him. It is only when he is absent that the 
stopper seems to be taken off my tongue. If only Mrs. 
Holcomb will not give way to her flow of spirits until 
after my husband has, as we may say, received his first 
impression !” 

And, indeed, there was no danger of the lady in ques- 
tion giving way to a flow of spirits. She did not again 
make her appearance in Mrs. Armstrong’s parlor until 
summoned to dinner, after the return of the gentlemen 
from the payment. 

The grave, almost gloomy looks of both herself and 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 49I 

her husljand showed that matters had not gone well with 
either. The lady’s countenance lighted up a little on ob- 
serving that they were to dine in the same apartment in 
which they had been at first received. 

“ It’s a wonder the colonel has not taken away some- 
body’s bedroom to furnish himself a dining-room !’? she 
muttered to herself. “ Such meanness ! Helping himself 
to such comfortable quarters, and cutting us down to one 
room I Well, I sha’n’t put a curtain across mine, I’m 
determined. I shall just have my bed right there, exposed 
to full view ; and if that does not make people ashamed, I 
don’t know what will. Oh, how I shall miss that good, 
obliging ‘ old stiffy,’ Hamilton, after all !” 

Such were her thoughts ; and under their influence she 
for the first quarter of an hour remained silent enough to 
suit even Colonel Armstrong’s fastidious taste. After a 
time there came a change. The colonel had brought Mr. 
Gaylord along with the other gentlemen to dine, and that 
young oflBcer, being in his usual happy flow of spirits, soon 
started a topic of interest. 

“I suppose you ladies wdll all go to see the games this 
afternoon 

The remark was addressed to Madeleine. 

“ I do not know ; it will he as papal pleases,” she said, 
hesitatingly. 

To see the games I Oh, by all means we must go 1” 
cried Mrs. Holcomb. “I would not miss them. for the 
world. What games do they play?” 

“ Their great game of La Crosse, I am told ; and they 
will have their Pipe Dance, and their Danse de Decouverte, 
as usual ” 

“ And their horse-fights,” added Captain Lovel, slily. 

“ I do not think, Madeleine, you would care to witness a 
horse-fight,” said her father. 


492 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ No ; I should not like to see a fight of any kind ; but for 
the rest ” 

“Not like a horse-fight!’^ exclaimed Mrs. Holcomb; 
“ why, that would be the greatest attraction of all, to me. 
I adore horses. I always go to a circus whenever I can. 
I suppose these fights are very much like the performances 
one sees at an amphitheatre, — something like the tourna- 
ments we read about in novels, aren’t they ?” 

“Not so much as to make them desirable spectacles for 
ladies to witness,” said Mr. McGregor. 

“Well, really, I can’t see why. There’s a difference in 
tastes. Some ladies have no fancy for anything of this 
kind; but it is exactly what would be most attractive to 
me. If I had happened to have always lived out of the 
world, and been accustomed to only one style of amuse- 
ments, I might view the matter differently.” 

“ I suppose we who live out of the world are the people 
who are most accustomed to this particular style of amuse- 
ment,” said Mr. McGregor, “ and I believe those of my 
own sex make no objections to the exhibition; but for 
ladies, — delicate, refined ladies ” 

“Well, at any rate, we can go and see the games and 
the dances, and those who please can come away when the 
fighting begins. I dare say the^men will all stay, even if 
it leaves the ladies to come home by themselves,” said Mrs. 
Holcomb, touchily. 

“ By a little management I think we can arrange that 
the ladies shall be properly notified,” said Mr. McGregor, 
not heeding the latter part of the lady’s speech. “ I will 
send one of my clerks to the principal chief, with a request 
that I know will be attended to.” 

Mrs. Holcomb pouted, but said nothing. 

“And, Mallie,” said her father, lowering his voice, “ I 
will ask Logan to call and walk with you to the ground. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


493 


I am not able to be out any longer myself; and I should 
not like to put Captain Lovel to the inconvenience of bring- 
ing you away at any moment you might wish to come.’’ 

Madeleine bowed her head in dutiful acquiescence. 

“ Miss Latimer and I will go together,” she said. “ Had 
I not better invite her to come and stay a few days with 
us, papa, till Mrs. Lovel gets settled in her new quarters ?” 

“If you wish it, certainly. And, Mallie, take care of 
yourself, my daughter. If it grows cold, ask Logan to 
send to the magasin for a shawl for each of you. I think 
I would not remain very long upon the ground, with such 
a crowd as there is sure to be. I have not the faintest 
idea where your sister is,” added her father, after a short 
pause. “ Monica seems to take the disposition of her time 
and the direction of her actions entirely into her own 
hands, of late. I hope it may be for her ultimate happi- 
ness ; but ” 

There was a sigh as Mr. McGregor, leaving, his remark 
unfinished, turned to take leave of his hospitable enter- 
tainers and their assembled guests. 


CHAPTER LXYIII. 

Mr. McGregor did not content himself with sending a 
message, but drove himself to M. Tremblay’s, where he 
knew Logan would be at dinner, to request him to escort 
his daughter to witness the games. It seemed quite op- 
portune that Ewing should also have been upon the spot 
and volunteered his services also to the ladies. 

Both the young gentlemen felt that matters could not 
have been better arranged ; and when, after their call at 

42 


494 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Mrs; Armstrong’s, the whole party sallied forth from the 
Fort, there were four happy hearts in the company, not- 
withstanding the disposition manifested, now by Mr. Gay- 
lord, now by little Smithett or some other oflQcer, to break 
up the quartette. 

Arrived at the ground, Madeleine looked about for her 
sister. “ I expected certainly to find her here,” she said, 
in answer to the inquiries of the newly-arrived officers. 
“ She was to dine with her godmother ; but I made sure 
of her being here by this time.” Logan too was looking 
out for Miss McGregor. He had never relaxed his watch 
upon her, from the moment she arrived at the place of pay- 
ment in the morning, until she quitted it with Madame 
Jarrot and her daughter Sophie. He noticed that after 
having been escorted to the pay-table by Jerome; and the 
two had received their allotted portion of the silver, they 
had not returned immediately to their places, but had stood 
apart for a time, apparently in deep consultation. The 
earnestness of Monica’s manner, the occasional lifting of 
her finger to add emphasis to her words, and the half- 
dubious air with which Jerome seemed listening to her, 
were none of them losj upon him. He knew that she was 
playing upon the young metif ; and, as he had too just an 
appreciation of her qualities to believe that this was from 
motives of vanity or coquetry, he felt certain that she was 
meditating some deep scheme, in which Jerome’s aid was 
indispensable. 

He did not fail to observe that their eyes were from time 
to time directed towards the circle of Winnebagoes, who still 
kept their seats as at the first, and he felt persuaded that 
the representative of Tshah-nee-kah was the object of in- 
terest there. The looks and bearing of that young man 
had made such an impression on him that Logan was cer- 
tain he should recognize him even in a crowd. He had 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


495 


watched Monica ofif the ground, before leaviug himself, 
and had seen her go quietly away with Madame Jarrot. 
To watch still, and, if possible, prevent any communication 
between the suspicious parties, was now again his busi- 
ness. . If it were necessary to “confiscate” Jerome, he 
knew he had the power to do so. Now that they had 
returned to the ground, he found it not the easiest thing 
in the world to carry out his plan of espial in the midst 
of the throng which, to his vexation, seemed especially 
attracted to his immediate vicinity. He felt emboldened 
by it, however, to say to his companion, “ Would you have 
any objection to taking my arm ? I think I could in thaji 
way protect you more effectually frpm the people who press 
round us, as well as save you some fatigue.” 

And when Madeleine had assented, he whispered, “ I am 
anxious to find where your sister is. If you will give a 
searching glance to the right, I will look out to the left. 
In that way we may find her. She must be here before 
long ; for I see the Indians are beginning to come to the 
centre of the plain, where the stakes are planted.” 

Heretofore the natives had been grouped in the vicinity 
of their lodges, which, with few exceptions, stood at some 
distance across the plain. There were also in that direction 
a few dwellings of the “ habitans,” as the long-established 
families were called. One of these was the residence of 
Madame Jarrot ; and towards it Madeleine bent her gaze 
from time to time. 

At length the Indians were congregated upon the ground 
on which their great game of La Crosse was to be played, 
and every eye was bent upon their proceedings with pro- 
found interest. This favorite game, though bearing among 
the French settlers the same name as that given to the 
game of cricket, does not in the least resemble the latter. 
It is played in the following manner: — 


496 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


A space of from one to three miles is marked out, at 
each end of which is planted a stake for a goal, while an- 
other is set in the centre for a starting-point. 

If the game is to be played by a single tribe or band, 
the players choose sides ; if, on the contrary, it is to be a 
trial of skill between rival tribes, an equal number of the 
best players of each is selected. 

Each player is provided with acrossc, or pau-kau-to-way, 
which latter is the name of the game among the Chippewas, 
with whom it is said to have originated. 

This crosse is a slender stick, about four feet in length, 
having at one end a shallow pocket of net-work fastened 
around a narrow rim of wood. With this the player is to 
catch the ball when it is thrown, and hurl it forward in the 
direction of the goal of his own party. 

The ball is about two and a half inches in diameter, and 
is made of deer-skin stuffed with hair, and with frequently 
a musket-ball in the centre to increase its momentum. 

When all is ready, the players take their stations by the 
starting-post in the centre. The ball is thrown into the 
air by one who has either been selected or has gained the 
privilege by lot ; and the strife is then who shall catch 
it in his crosse and send it in the direction of his own 
goal. 

The ball is seldom permitted to fall to the ground. 
There are “ right field,” “ left field,” and “ centre field” on 
the alert. Amid pushing, jostling, and whooping, some 
happy player seizes it before it reaches the earth, shakes 
it a moment in triumph in his, crosse, and then hurls it 
perhaps in a direction the reverse of that in which all have 
just been struggling forward. 

The object of each party is to send the ball beyond their 
own goal in the direction away from the centre stake. 
That once accomplished, the game is won. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


49t 


There was a murmur of satisfaction through the crowd 
as the band of players approached to the music of drum 
and shee-shee-quay and took their station by the stake in 
the centre of the field. 

Logan’s eye was riveted upon one who seemed to walk 
a little in advance of his own company; and he soon 
noticed that he carried the ball in one hand, while he held 
his crosse in the other. It gave him an opportunity of 
identifying him, as he inquired of an old metif citizen, — 

“ What is the name of that fine, stalwart young man 
who is to throw up the ball 

“ That ? Let me see — oh, that is To-shun-neek — L’Outre 
Noir. He is brother-in-law to this poor Oiseau Rouge, 
who is in the jail yonder.” 

To-shun-neek — the Black Otter ! I noticed him at the 
pay-table this morning. Well, I predict that he wins the 
game.” 

“ Very likely. He looks as if he could play well.” 

The ball was tossed up, and the game began — engross- 
ing and absorbing the spectators as a regatta, or a horse- 
race, or a game of base-ball would do at the present day. 

Mrs. Holcomb was almost vociferous in her expressions 
of interest. As the players would at times draw near the 
spot where she and her party stood, she would clap her 
hands and exclaim, — 

'‘Here they come! This is the side of that splendid 
fellow that threw up the ball first. And here it comes 
still nearer 1 They’ll win — they’ll win ! Oh, now — I de- 
clare it’s too bad ! — one of those other fellows got it, and 
has thrown it clear away over to the other side! Mr. 
Smithett, I am sorry now that I bet with you. If I lose, 
you won’t see me laugh again for a week.” 

“ There is Monica,” said Madeleine, in a low tone, to 
the bourgeois. “ I saw her just now come out of that 

42* 


498 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Indian lodge yonder — and with Jerome Tremblay ! What 
can it mean 

She was quite pale, and Logan could feel that the hand 
which rested on his arm trembled. ■ 

“ You know,’’ he said, in an indifferent tone, “ that your 
sister is very independent. And as for visiting her Indian 
acquaintance—; — ” 

“ Oh, I do not mean that. Of course she feels quite at 
home with them, they are all so attached to her. But 
Jerome Tremblay — to be walking about so familiarly with 
him I And he called to see her last evening, and again 
this morning. What can it mean 

Don’t make yourself unhappy about it, dearest,” 
whispered the bourgeois. “We may find out that your 
sister has reasons for what she does. Possibly there was 
no one at her godmother’s to escort her on some visit she 
may have thought necessary to make ” 

“ Oh, yes ; M. Jarrot would have gone-— he is the very 
flower of courtesy. Or she might have taken Sophie. 
But — Jerome Tremblay *, to be so intimate with him as 
she seems to be of late !” 

If Monica was surprised to find her sister a spectator 
of the sports, she gave no sign. She came sauntering 
slowly towards the spot where Madeleine stood, only 
quickening her pace as if she at this moment for the first 
time recognized the ladies and gentlemen who formed the 
group. 

Jerome’s face was beaming with satisfaction as Monica 
presented him to the company, naming him as the son of 
the gentleman whom they all knew — the same who had 
been protector of herself and sister on their journey 
home. 

“Jerome was so good as to accompany me,” she said, 
carelessly, to her sister, “ to one of the lodges where there 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


499 


is a child who has been lately hurt by the kick of a pony. 
We were afraid we were going to haVe work for the sur- 
geon ; but I believe the little fellow will do very well now. 
Where is Madame Jarrot? She left us while we went to 
fulfil that errand for her, and has walked on here. She 
must be somewhere on the ground.^’ 

Logan did not believe a word of this story; and his 
skepticism was justified when he presently heard the ad- 
dress of her friend Sophie : — 

“Oh, here you are, Monique I Why, where have you 

and Jerome been hiding yourselves ” 

“ See, see !” cried Miss McGregor, with animation. 
“There, the ball is tossed off again ! That is Wheen-kah 
— little Wheen-kah-— who is whirling it up. Ah I the 
‘Little Duck’ — .he belongs to the other side.' I suppose 
we are all for the side whose goal is nearest to us.” 

“ The side of To-shun-neek,” said Logan, quietly. Miss 
McGregor gave him a sharp glance. 

“But, Monique-: — ” persisted Sophie. 

“Ah! there they all go once more I And oh, Sophie, 
apropos of amusements!. Now is the time to broach the 
subject of the Sainte Feriale. What do you think,” lower- 
ing her voice, “of inviting some of these officers and ladles 
to join us ? Their contributions to the entertainment would 
be something very gratifying, I will engage; and I think 
it is a sort of merry-making that will please them Well.” 

“ But, Monique, you have not told me ” 

“ No, I am not able to tell you yet, dear, because your 
mamma has not yet decided which evening she will take. 
She is clearly of opinion that the Sainte Feriale should be- 
gin on La Toussaint; but whether she will receive first, or 
wait for le §aint Martin, is yet to be determined. I shall 
leave you and Jerome to settle the matter, and also to decide 
whether we shall include the young militaires in our circle 


600 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


or not. I can assure you that some of them are very gal- 
lant and agreeable.” 

And, watching her opportunity, Miss McGregor intro- 
duced Lieutenants Gaylord and Smithett to lier friend 
Sophie, hoping th^t in the rattle of the former her walk 
with Jerome might be forgotten. 

And Jerome, with whom all things were going smoothly 
again, on his part, played bis cards so well in seconding 
what he knew to be the wishes and plans of his lady-love, 
that Mademoiselle Jarrot, in the height of her recovered 
spirits, had soon engaged the two young officers to promise 
to grace whichever of the Sainte Feriale balls should be 
given at the house of her parents. 

There had been an immense scuffling and shouting on 
that part of the ground which lay between the centre-post 
and the goal nearest the visitors. It seemed as if the party 
of To-shun-neek were fairly surpassing themselves — that 
the other side had no chance whatever ; and truly that 
fact was made manifest just at this moment, when a clear, 
ringing whoop, followed by a succession of the same, and 
then a clapping of hands and loud hurrahs from the spec- 
tators, as they saw the ball come flying past the goal — not 
far from them — announced that victory had crowned the 
right party. 

“ I’ll take one pair of pea-green, and one of lavender, 
thank you, Mr. Smithett,” said Mrs. Holcomb, exultantly. 
“ And for the cologne, Mr. Gaylord— — ” 

“ Thank you, madam, I never deal in the article,” said 
that young gentleman, turning away unceremoniously ; for 
be did not relish the idea of being drawn in to pay a debt 
he had never dreamed of making. 

The lady affected to laugh ; then, in spite of her cousin’s 
frowns and “ Oh, Ediths 1” she exclaimed, in no murmured 
tone, “Mean creature!” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


501 


“ I think,” said Captain Lovel, “ I have seen a different 
game of ball from this — one played by the fair sex only — 
with a couple of balls attached by a cord. I remember 
the dark-complexioned ladies at St, Anthony used to play 
it with great animation. Rather in the goddess-Diana 
style, however— short skirts, and so forth — not a good game 
for a windy day,— ha ! ha 1 ha I I don’t know that I ever 
saw ladies mind tumbling about so little as they seemed to.” 

“ Ah I there comes Major Tremblay on his patrol !” ex- 
claimed Ewing. “ How is it, Jerome, that you are not 
with your company ?” 

“I had to get excused to go to the pay-table this morn- 
ing,” said the young man. 

“ Yes ; but this afternoon. Why are you not doing your 
part at guarding us ? Olivier is in the ranks, and young 
Jarrot.” 

“ I happen, unfortunately, to be a little lame this after- 
noon,” said Jerome, somewhat disconcerted. 

“ It is a good thing that you don’t happen to limp, 
though,” said Ewing, mischievously, while Jerome turned 
away, and, taking Sophie Jarrot under his arm, walked with 
her to look at a company playing the game of “moccasin^^ 
in another part of the field. 


CHAPTER LXIX. 

The “ Sainte Feriale” or “ Holiday” balls were a time- 
honored institution among the simple habitans of the old 
frontier towns, and their descendants in the Far West. It 
is a pity that their observance has gone out of fashion with, 
we had almost said, all the primitive, homely graces in their 
train. 


502 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


The entertainments were given in turn by the different 
families of the Canadian or French settlers, on each of the 
principal fete-days from All Saints to Shrove-Tuesday, or, 
as they would say, from La Toussaint to Mardi-gras. 

In one feature — that which took from the entertainment 
its formality and gave a community of intel‘est to the 
assistants” — they were like our modern picnics, except 
that it was the gentlemen who contributed each his quota 
to the sinews of enjoyment, not in the form of subscription, 
but of a proportion of the veritable material — one sending 
coffee, another sugar, a third candles — others the violins, 
game, buffalo-tongues. If a guest came late and without 
premeditation, he brought in his pocket his package of tea, 
or some other offering; Nobody came empty-handed. 
The cakes and the “ quelqiie-eboSes” (not ice-cream -and 
oysters, which were unknown in those days) fell to the lot 
of the giver of the feast; and probably there never Were 
parties that furnished a greater amount of innocent and 
hearty enjoyment than the Sainte Feriale balls of the re- 
mote frontier settlements. 

It was the first one of the approaching series that wms 
now under discussion by the parties most interested in its 
success and in its possible consequences. 

Monica and Sophie had long been confidential friends ; 
confidential, that is, on the part of Sophie, who was of an 
open, confiding temper, and who had ever been pleased and 
flattered by the appearance of interest manifested in her 
affairs by one whom she admired and looked up to beyond 
all others of her acquaintance. 

Sophie’s mother, besides being the godmother of Monica, 
had been the cherished friend of Madame I’Espagnole; 
and little particulars which she had occasionally let fall of 
the history of mother and daughter had invested both with 
a sort of romance in the imagination of the susceptible 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


503 


young metive. Sophie knew all about the episode of Wau- 
nig-sootsh-kah, although her friend had, to her, never men- 
tioned bis name. Not even now, when he lay a captive 
in his dungeon, did Monica ever voluntarily allude to his 
position or his prospects. Miss McGregor, in turn, knew 
all about Sophie’s affaires du cceur. Although there was 
so little reciprocation on her part, there was such a charm 
in her way of listening to the outpourings of her friend’s 
little tender experiences, the manner was so gentle and 
insinuating with which she would draw from its secret 
place every particular which she cared to learn, that she 
was regarded by the transparent and unsuspecting Sophie 
as the very embodiment of affectionate, trustworthy 
fidelity. 

Never until to-day had a suspicion crossed the honest 
heart of Sophie that Monica could be other than she 
appeared ; but her growing affection for Jerome had won- 
derfully sharpened her mental vision. 

It may have been true, as Jerome averred, that from his 
boyhood Miss McGregor had been to him the embodiment 
of all that was loveliest and best ; but it was equally 
true that he had never heretofore aspired to any return 
of a sentiment which had only lately taken the proportions 
of a passion. He had worshipped her afar off, as some 
bright particular star. What his .step-mother had pettishly 
said about his “suffering her to make a fool of him” had 
relation simply to his folly in gazing after her at every 
chance, and neglecting his work or his sports for the sake 
of encountering her in her walks or visits. 

The good lady had, of late, fancied her step-son cured of 
his nonsense. During several, preceding months, circum- 
stances had thrown him. into rather intimate association 
with Sophie Jarrot. Frequent hunting and fishing excur- 
sions with her two brothers in the midsummer holidays, 


504 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


and repeated little entertainments at one house or the other, 
contrived by the elders of the two families, brought them 
a good deal together ; and, as Sophie was perfectly frank in 
her nature, and but little trammelled by “ les usages du 
rnonde,” which, truth to tell, held slight sway in the little 
Arcadia in which her lot was cast, it was not difficult for 
even an indifferent observer to divine the impression her 
constant attendant had made on the young girPs heart. It 
was not in Jerome’s vain and impressionable nature to 
fail to respond in a measure to the sentiment he had in- 
spired. He was flattered by the young girl’s evident par- 
tiality ; and as, during the long absence of the chief object 
of his admiration, he saw no one to compare Sophie un- 
favorably with, he had fancied he liked her a good deal, 
and from time to time had told her so, though without 
binding himself by any promises for the future, or exacting 
any such from her. 

Sophie had imparted to her friend, at the earliest moment 
possible after her return, her hopes, her expectations, nay, 
her certainty, of being one day the wife of Jerome ; and 
a rehearsal of all the little particulars of what she termed 
their courtship, with an unreserved exhibition of the in- 
nermost sentiments of her heart, formed the staple of her 
frequent confidential communications. Monica listened to 
it all, and mentally took Jerome’s measure by the gauge 
the unsuspecting Sophie thus furnished, until she decided 
that he was exactly the tool she wanted to aid her in the 
accomplishment of her plans. 

Her treachery to Sophie was scarcely less than her treabli- 
ery to Jerome ; yet she persuaded herself that the stake 
for which she was playing justified the sacrifice of all con- 
siderations of what two so insignificant were to suffer. 
“ After a while they can marry and console each other,” 
she would say to herself. “If Jerome took pleasure in 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


505 


making love to her while I was away, he has but to resume 
the amusement. They are just fitted for each other ; only 
it must be when I have no further occasion for bis ser- 
vices.” As in the present position of affairs it was im- 
portant that she should avoid awakening the jealonsy of 
Sophie, Monica left Jerome to her for the remainder of the 
afternoon, taking care, in order to smooth away any mis- 
understanding that might possibly arise, to whisper to 
Madame Jarrot, — 

“ Ma marraine, ypu know that I had a little matter to 
speak about with the wife of To-shun-neek,— a word of en- 
couragement to send to that poor Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, in 
whose behalf my father is laboring with the Government. 
I have made Sophie believe that my errand was to see 
after a child that had been hurt. You will be so amiable' 
as not to contradict my story, will you not? As people 
are feeling now towards L’Oiseau Kouge, it is better that 
his name should be spoken as little as possible.” 

“Ah, certainly, my poor child; Sophie shall know 
nothing. It is so forgiving in you to be working for 
L’Oiseau Rouge when he went and married another I Alas I 
what are men, I pray you, when we talk of constancy ?” 

Monica had made matters all right with Jerome. He 
had not concealed from her his wounded feeling at her de- 
preciating remarks in the morning. 

“ What would you have, my friend ?” she asked, in well- 
feigned astonishment. “Would you have liked to hear 
my name and my words quoted before all the boarders at 
your father’s table, and to be yourself rallied as the object 
of my admiration ? I had not . expected that, Jerome. I 
had supposed my delicacy would be as precious to you as 
to myself, — nay, more so ; for a woman may, and does, 
forget herself, but a man of honor and of feeling — a true 
knight — never I” 


43 


606 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


And, as she talked, poor Jerome wondered at his own 
blind selfishness, and almost believed himself too great a 
brute ever to be forgiven. 

‘‘ It is rather embarrassing,” said Monica, veering, as 
the Sailors saj, upon another tack, “that you have got 
yourself, apparently, a little entangled with Sophie. I 
don’t speak this as complaining, you wiU observe. I know 
that these things are often the result of circumstances be- 
yond our control. I should no more think of questioning 
your good faith to me, as a matter of actual fact, if put 
to the test— — ” 

“ Try me — only try me — put me to what proof you 
please,” protested the young man. “As for entangled — 
does Sophie say that I ever — — ” 

“ Of course I never ask Sophie a question, and I listen 
as little as I can. She is fond of talking of what took 
place while I was away ” 

“ Nothing, nothing took place, Monique, I assure you 
by all that is sacred! If Sophie considers a few polite 
speeches, more or less- — 

“ Never mind — never mind. Do not excite yourself. I 
am not the person to expect you to think all women ugly 
for my sake. If you had found a woman that you really 
loved better than me, I take it for granted you would 

have told me so, just as I should have done by you if 

such a thing could have happened. We owe' that perfect 
frankness to each other. When you say to me, ‘ Monique, 
my heart is changed,’ when I say to you, ‘ Go, Jerome, I 
wish to see you no more,’ then we shall know that the 
dream of our life is over — that we have only to bqw our 
heads and die.” 

“Oh, Monique! my only beloved! since your tender- 
ness is so exalted, so heavenly, why must it be that we 
have to hide our sentiments, and that to you I can at no 


MARK LOGAKy THE BOURGEOIS. 


50T 


moment be more than a distant acquaintance ? I feel, at 
times, as if I should die, even though you have not said 
‘ go' in so many words.” 

“ Shall I tell you, Jerome ? It is not altogether that I 
feel that my father must , be managed before he can be 
brought to consent to our union, though I tell you, can- 
didly, he has had other views fox me, — views that I have 
never concurred in, nor ever shall. But there is this other 
consideration. You will perceive the peculiarity of my 
position with the Jarrots. Madame is my godmother — 
the friend of my departed mother. I have always been 
good friends with Sophie. She has given me to under- 
stand that she has claims upon yon ” 

But you can tell her plainly that you know better.” 

“ That is not a point for me to settle,” said Miss Mc- 
Gregor, with dignity. “You are the proper person to 
arrange your own attitude ; and, if you will take my ad- 
vice, you will not proceed abruptly in the business. By 
degrees, and as opportunity offers, you can define your 
position, and bring matters to a harmonious conclusion. 
Sophie will be reasonable if she is humored just a little — 
but take too decided measures, and you will have a terri- 
ble hornets’- nest about your ears and mine too.’.’ 

And thus it was that Miss McGregor contrived to dis- 
embarrass herself, for the present^ of the assiduities of her 
lover, though still keeping up with him a relation of inti- 
macy sufficient to answer her purposes should any emer- 
gency make his services necessary* 


508 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER LXX. 

It had been settled, before the day of the payment was 
over, that the Sainte F^riale amusements should begin 
with a dance at Madame Jarrot’s. 

The time which must still intervene before La Toussaint* 
slipped rapidly away to all but Miss McGregor. To her 
the days seemed interminable ; and yet they were not mo- 
notonous — they were only too much varied by successive 
disappointments. ' 

In her visit to the lodge of To-shun-neek, on the afternoon 
of the payment, she had concerted with the young Winne- 
bago measures for carrying out the abduction she had so 
long contemplated. 

Tshah-nee-kah was to be the controlling spirit; being 
under the ban, however, he could not act without her aid 
and counsel. 

She had designated the night of the ball at her god- 
mother’s as the season which promised best for the accom- 
plishment of the enterprise. She undertook to answer for 
her sister’s being present on the occasion. The dwelling 
of M. Jarrot standing at a distance from the village and 
garrison was a point of great advantage. Some of the 
officers, it is true, might be there, but'' they would be un- 
armed ; for, of course, they would never think of going to 
an entertainment like that in full dress. Then her father, 
whose lameness had declared itself as acute rheumatism, 
would, doubtless, not be speedDy cured. He would be 


* All Saints’ Day — the first of November, 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


509 


unable to accompany them, and would be forced to. delegate 
their charge to M. Tremblay, who had so faithfully at- 
tended them through their long, troubled journey of -the 
summer. Monsieur could easily be induced to transfer 
them to the care of his son ; and, once resigned to the escort 
of Jerome, the business was done; What more easy than 
for Tshah-nee-kah and his assistants to lie in ambush near 
the Jar rot mansion until the hour for the departure of the 
guests ? Monica would manage matters so that she and 
her sister should be the last ones to take leave; then, be- 
fore they could reach the caliche which was to convey 
them home, a rush forward could be made by those lying 
in wait, a blanket be thrown over the head of the captive 
to stifle her cries, and she be hurried to the spot where 
other confederates, lurking in attendance, with their hardy 
little ponies, would bear her away though the passes among 
the hills, or to a canoe lying in the Wisconsin, — whichever 
should promise the speediest and surest escape from pursuit. 

The presence of Miss Latimer as an inmate of the Mc- 
Gregor household threatened now to defeat this well-laid 
scheme. Madeleine and Grace were inseparable, pnd it 
soon became evident that wherever the latter went, there 
also Mr. Ewing contrived to be. To add to her trouble, 
Miss McGregor made the unwelcome discovery that 
Logan’s powers of observation seemed of late to have 
become preternaturally sharpened. 

She had necessarily depended on Jerome to communi- 
cate with the me^engers occasionally sent by Tshah-nee- 
kah, and to receive or impart whatever information was to 
be conveyed on either side. But Jerome complained that 
the eye of the bourgeois was now ever upon him ; that if , 
a Puan woman came to trade it was always Olivier or 
some of the other clerks who were sent to attend to her, 
and that Logan himself seemed to have nothing to do but 
43 * 


510 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


to sauntQr about and take accouut of the movements of all 
native customers until they were fairly off the premises. 

These varied causes of vexation combined to deepen the 
gloom which heavier trials had thrown over the spirit of 
Miss McGregor. She became so completely absorbed in 
her perplexities as to be quite unobservant of a change 
that had come over her coadjutor, Jerome. 

That he was less affectionately demonstrative in the tete- 
^tete meetings which it was now and, then necessary to 
hold, she perceived with great satisfaction. It was a de- 
cided improvement on the young man^s former deportment. 
She doubted not he was acting on her suggestion that he 
should wait patiently for his reward until the .task set 
before them should be accomplished ; possibly, too, the 
devotion of Sophie was making him amends for any priva- 
tion he might at present suffer — Monica hoped so. 

She did not notice the fierce gleam in her lover’s eye as, 
with look and voice that she strove to make indifferent, she 
would ask him, from day to day, — 

‘‘ Have you been able to see the Red Bird yet, Jerome 
Nor did she observe how closely he would shut his teeth, 
and how deep would be his tone, as he replied, — 

“ Not yet.” , Neither did she note how he would steal a 
glance from the corner of his eye as he went on to explain : 
“ The bourgeois must divine what I am about to do. He 
has always some little job of writing which he says nobody 
can do., so well as I ; and it must always, it appears to me, 
be undertaken at the only hour when I could get leave 
to enter the jail.” 

This was not strictly true, but it was the excuse Jerome 
made for neglecting a commission which he had no heart 
to execute. 

The sighs which Monica could not always suppress, 
brought no pang to the heart of the young metif— he, was 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


511 


no longer ignorant of the extent of his own wrongs, nor 
for whose sake they had been inflicted. 

“She is being punished now,” he would say, without 
compunction, to himself; “ she will be punished worse be- 
fore she is through with it !” It was in the following man- 
ner that the eyes of Jerome had been opened. 

On the night succeeding the payment, he had lain awake 
through the long hours, pondering on the events of the day, 
recalling every word, every look, of his adored Monique, 
and striving to reconcile certain things that had forced 
themselves upon his observation, with the assurances and 
explanations with which she had endeavored to satisfy 
him. Away from the fascinating influence of her glance, 
her voice, her touch, Jerome could compare and judge 
more sanely. 

Had there not been, in the first place, a look almost of 
repulsion when on the preceding day he was ofiering her 
his tenderest sympathy in her disappointment about the 
coming of Tshah-nee-kah ? Had she not on the evening of 
the same day, when he had gone to her with his heart over- 
flowing with love and solicitude, persisted in keeping him at 
a distance, made the excuse of finishing a paltry piece of 
embroidery to justify her in refusing him even the privi- 
lege of holding her hand in his clasp ? And had not her 
tone and manner, if not her words, been disparaging in 
speaking of him at the payment this very morning ? Was 
it a sufficient reason for her doing so that she would not 
have Madame Tremblay^s boarders bandy her name about ? 
Surely there was no danger of that; for Logan himself 
was praising him, and any lady might have assented to as 
much as that in his favor. “ ‘A fine, well-made man,’ the 
bourgeois said ; and so I am,” — it was thus he communed 
with himself; “Monique can’t deny that. And doesn’t she 
know that pretending not to think so would give Logan 


612 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


ten times more suspicion than if she had agreed with him ? 
Sophie would have been a great deal bolder: if she had 
heard any one remarking upon me, and complimenting 
me, she would not have been afraid to come out with her 
opinion. What is more, she would have been delighted. 
But Monique, — oh, Monique I Can it be that she is play- 
ing with me for her amusement 

The poor fellow trembled and tossed ; he even rose from 
his uneasy couch and walked the room, till admonished by 
the shrill voice of his step-mother, — 

“ Qui est-ce qui fait tant de tapage 1^ haut 
After a night of agitation, the conclusion he came to 
was, to seek information and counsel from the mother of 
Sophie. “Madame Jarrot is her godmother,” he , said ; 
“ she must know whe'ther she is capable of deceiving me 
so heartlessly. I know so little about her character, for 
she has always held herself above me till lately ; but, oh, 
she did seem so^ good, so angelic 1” And he wept in bis 
passion. 

At his .first leisure, which was not till the afternoon, Je- 
rome went to Madame Jarrot. He had no scruples of deli- 
cacy about taking information. “ 1 will ask her franc et 
netf'\ he said, “ every question I can think of, till I find out. 
If Monique has been amusing herself with me, woe betide 
her I I come of the same blood as herself, as her favorite 
Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, L’Oiseau Rouge. Ah I” he stopped 
short in his walk, and pondered, “ yes, most of all will 
I find out about, him. I have never suspected her; but 
now I remember many things. If only he can be released, 
my feelings and my happiness are of very little account.” 
He held up his head, and walked quickly on, occasion- 


Who is making all that noise up there? 
f Outright. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


513 


ally clinching his hand and growling, in a manner that 
quite comported with his boasted lineage, — 

“If this is what she wanted of me, after all!” 

Madame Jarrot was not at home; but Sophie received 
him with beaming smiles, and with such demonstrative 
solicitude for his comfort that the contrast with Monica’s 
cold reserve could not but force itself upon him. 

“ Come near and take this cosy seat by the fire, Jerome. 
Isn’t it chilly to-day ? Only think, the month of October 
half gone. Only two weeks to La Toussaint! and it’s 
here, with us, that the first ball is to be I” 

“ I’m not cold, I thank you ; I don’t care to sit near the 
fire,” said Jerome, who was, in truth, at a fever-heat. 

Sophie thought she must continue on the subject of the 
ball, to cheer him. “ Mamma has gone to talk a little with 
Madame Olivier and Madame Tremblay about it. Mon- 
sieur your father can tell her whether it will do to have 
things just in the same old fashion as usual.” 

“And why should it not ? Who would wish to change ?” 
“ Oh, you know,” said Sophie, hesitating, — “ I can’t say, 
but — only, as Monique and her sister are coming, and they 

are not used, perhaps, of late ” 

“ Monique is coming, then ?” said Jerome, with anima- 
tion, seizing upon this opening. 

“ Yes, she said she should come. You are surprised, are 
you not ? I could not have done siich a thing myself — 
could you ? / should have buried myself in ray chamber 

— I could not have gone abroad, even for a visit. And as 
for dancing, that of all things I The very sound of the 
violins would have given nle a horror I” 

“What is it? Why do you say that, Sophie? Why 
should Monique not dance ?” 

“ Do you ask, Jerome ? Would I dance, do you think, 
when my dearest friend — the man for whom I would once 


514 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


have given up everything in this world and the next too — 
lay chained in a dungeon, the very day appointed on which 
he must be dragged out to die ? Oh, I have wondered and 
wondered that Monique could have the heart even to walk 
abroad in the sunshine — still less to be taking part in diver- 
sions and merry-makings.” 

Jerome sat as one stunned. His first connected thought 
was that possibly Sophie, in her voluble assertion of her 
own tender feelings, had perhaps expressed herself amiss. 

“ L’Oiseau Rouge, her cousin, you mean I She is at- 
tached to him and feels a tender pity for him — I happen to 
know it — she is trying, that is, she would do anything in 
her power to effect his release — but staying away from the 
dance would not help that.” Jerome’s voice was not quite 
assured as he went on with* this vindication. 

“No, it would not help it — it would not set him free. 
But, I ask you, how can she feel inclined to take part in 
such festivities, L’Oiseau Rouge being what he ever has 
been to her, and she to him ?” 

“ Her cousin — her mother’s nephew,” articulated Jerome, 
slowly. 

“Her cousin! Ah I that is all, is it? Well, I will say 
no more.” And Sophie closed her lips and remained silent. 

In vain Jerome plied her with questions. 

“Perhaps, after all, I do not know anything about it,” 
she said, provokingly. “ Perhaps, not being a very inti- 
mate friend, I may have been deceived. Perhaps mamma 
does not keep as well posted about her god-daughter as a 
stranger might do.” 

“ But only tell me what it is you mean — what you are 
trying to make me believe,” said Jerome, with difficulty 
controlling the tremor in his voice, as his suspicions began 
to take a new and terrible form. 

“Me trying!” cried Sophie. “Oh, pardonne, — why 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


515 


should I? You know, doubtless, so much better than me. 
You and Monique have been such good friends together 
lately I Yes ; L’Oiseau Rouge is her cousin — let it rest 
there.” 

There were tears in Sophie’s eyes, though she smiled 
and endeavored to preserve a tone of raillery. 

Eor a moment Jerome said to himself, “ She is jealous 
— perhaps she would like to have me quarrel with Mo- 
nique.” 

But no — Sophie’s tone had been too genuine, the expres- 
sion of her face too honest, to admit such a supposition. 

She would tell him nothing, question her as he might. 
Then he would see Madame Jarrot at once, — this very after- 
noon, if he could find her. 

Full of this resolve, he took his leave. 


CHAPTER LXXI. 

It was Jerome’s fortune to meet Madame Jarrot as she 
was leaving his father’s house, and he offered the old lady 
his arm, to escort her back to her own home. It was a 
simple act of courtesy, but it opened her heart towards him, 
and made the task of getting to th,e bottom of the subject 
in hand, all the more easy. 

Jerome played the fox ; and, beginning with professions 
of sympathy for Wau-nig-sootsh-kah and “the unhappy 
Monique,” he by degrees drew forth all the particulars of 
their early history — the attachment which had begun and 
ripened during the successive visits of mother and daughter 
to their tribe at the Four Lakes — the hopes that the lovers 
had for a time entertained of overcoming the objections of 


516 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


the father — of the mother’s influence in separating them 
when she found, at length, that consent to their union 
could never be obtained — and the subsequent unhappiness 
of both. 

It was a terrible revelation to the young metif. He had 
been vexed at seeing his idol so occupied with the enter- 
prise of delivering her relative from bondage and torture, 
that she would give herself no time for tenderness towards 
him; but he had set this down to an exaggerated idea of 
duty and the claims of friendship. He had felt sure that 
the liberation of the young chief once achieved, and he 
away to distant friends, Monique would feel free to turn to 
other subjects, and make amends to herself, no less than 
to him, for all their previous forbearance. That she would 
not, ultimately, joyfully be his, was a consummation that 
he had, for weeks, ceased to dread. 

In proportion to the strength of his hopes and the pas- 
sionate force of his love, was the shock which the narrative 
of Madame Jarrot brought. Yet even then he did not 
accept the destruction of his bright visions without a 
struggle. 

“ This was long ago,” he said, as soon as he was suffi- 
ciently master of himself to speak. “ She must have been 
very young at that time.” 

“ Yes, Monique was about fifteen when it first began — 
not more. L’Oiseau Rouge is older, you know. He was 
a chief at that time, and so brave- 1 Such a warrior and 
such a hunter I So noble and so beautiful ! Monique was 
always far beyond her years — she was wonderfully sensible, 
even at twelve or thirteen.” 

“ But Wau-nig-sootsh-kah was a pagan,” objected Jerome. 
” How could Monique, a good Catholic, wish to marry 
him ?” 

‘‘ Ah I that is what helped the matter— she expected to 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


517 


convert him and all our people. Knowing the custom 
among them, that the husband goes to the wife always, 
instead of the wife to the husband, she thought that in 
time L’Oiseau Rouge would give up his wild life and be 
reconciled to the Church. Madame I’Espagnole, her 
mother, had great hopes of that. She has told me how 
Monique would sit on the banks of the beautiful lake for 
hours, with L’Oiseau Rouge lying at her feet and looking 
up in her face, while she would tell him stories out of the 
Bible, and about the wonderful doings of the holy saints. 
Poor young thing! She would have given her soul for 
his — but it was of no use. Wau-nig-sootsh-kah liked the 
stories — our people are all fond of stories, you know — and 
I think he tried very hard to believe all she told him ; but 
he could not, as he said, make a woman of himself. When 
it came to forgiving his enemies, instead of scalping and 
tomahawking them, that was asking a little too much.” 

“ The chiefs generally take that view,” said Jerome, 
with a touch of sarcasm. “ It’s only the women and chil- 
dren, and the old men who can no longer go on the war- 
path, that the priests can succeed in baptizing.” 

“ Pardon’,” said the old lady, “ Madame I’Espagnole 
had helped to convert some of her cousins on the Upper 
Mississippi. To be sure, I did hear it rumored, after the 
troubles of last year, that it looked as if the work would 
have to be done over again ; but that, I suppose, is be- 
cause she is gone, poor soul ! She had great hopes that 
Monique would succeed with L’Oiseau Rouge, knowing 
how intelligent she was, and with such a wonderful dis- 
cretion, juk like her mother; and, moreover, she and 
Wau-nig-sootsh-kah loving to such a degree that they 
would have died for each other.” 

“ Majdame I’Espagnole had a wonderful discretion, eh ?” 
exclaimed Jerome, scornfully. '“I don’t 'think it looks 

44 


518 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


much like it — to be willing that her daughter should put 
on the blanket and leggings and turn herself into a squaw 
outright.” 

Jerome’s rage would not permit him to be choice in his 
expressions. 

‘‘ Oh, as to the couverte and the mitasses, you know, 
Madame I’Espagnole always wore them herself.” 

“ Then probably she would have been pleased, too, to 
see her beautiful, civilized, Christian daughter packing on 
her shoulders the meat her husband had killed, or perhaps 
the mats and kettles of the lodge, and trooping along with 
the other women of the tribe I And Monique — she was 
ready, it seems, to embrace such a life I” 

“Ah, my friend, what would you have ? With a char- 
acter like Monique’s every sentiment is intense to the 
utmost ; there is nothing mediocre about it. There is no 
doubt she would now, after the lapse of so many years, 
follow him to the world’s end, and spend her life with him, 
if she were not bound by her promises to her mother !” 

The young man set his teeth firmly together. It was a 
minute or two before he remarked, in a low voice, — 

“ That would be inconvenient for the other wife — two 
other wives, if I am not misinformed.” 

“Pardon’ — Monique tells me the poor fellow has no 
wife, now.” 

“ Monique ? Then she talks about him still ?” 

“ Oh, to me, who am her marraine — of course she has 
no secrets from me. How could I comfort her in her 
troubles if she kept them from me ?” 

“And she has told you that she still loves L’Oiseau 
Rouge ?■” 

“ Pardon’ — I did not need to be told that— -me. I have 
my eyes. When she discourses to me of him, can I not 
see what is in her heart ?” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


519 


And what does she think is now to be his fate in- 
quired Jerome, anxious to learn whether Miss McGregor 
had taken any besides himself into her secret counsels. 

“ She thinks, as we all do, that the Government will 
pardon him. She says her father will get all the citizens 
and the officers to sign a petition and send on to the Pres- 
ident, and that then he will be released.” 

By this time Madame had arrived at her own door. She 
had no idea that she had committed the slightest indiscre- 
tion in quietly imparting to her future son-in-law all that 
she knew respecting Sophie’s intimate friend. 

Jerome, resisting her urgent invitation to enter and 
spend the evening with the young people, turned away, 
and, retracing his steps, strolled along past the warehouses, 
the village, and the fort, until he reached that part of the 
bank of the Mississippi which lay between the McGregor 
mansion and the water. 

A small matted lodge stood a little way up the stream, but 
he did not at once approach it. He continued to pace up 
and down, under the partial shade of the willow-trees, which 
were now fast losing their foliage in the autumn breeze. 

His head was bowed, and he was meditating bitter 
things — bitter as regarded his own past and present — 
more bitter still as concerned Miss McGregor’s future. 

“I am come of the same blood as her beloved Wau-nig- 
sootsh-kah — she shall see that!” was the burden of his 
thoughts. And how most signally to make her sensible 
of this affinity, was the subject on which he pondered as 
the moments went by. 

When he had come to a full resolve, he ceased his mon- 
otonous tread, stepped forward more briskly towards the 
little wigwam upon the bank, and, pushing aside the mat 
which hung in place of a door, entered its smoky, un- 
savory precincts. 


620 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER LXXIL 

A WEEK had passed since the payment, before Jerome 
advised himself (as he would have expressed it) to visit 
Wau-nig-sootsh-kah in his cell. 

He had been long aware of the profound despondency in 
which the young chief was plunged, but he had for a time 
feigned inability to obtain an interview, that he might 
spare his beloved the sorrow which a faithful description 
of her friend’s sufferings must cause her. 

Now all things were changed. Jerome’s sense of his 
own wrongs banished every magnanimous sentiment ; he 
was ready to depict all that met his eye or his ear, with- 
out softening a single feature. To the question, as he met 
Monica by appointment one afternoon, “ Have you seen 
him yet ?” he was able to answer, — 

“ Yes, I have been admitted to his cell to-day.” 

“And how is he ? Is he well ? Is he comfortable ?” 
were the eager questions which followed. 

“ Comfortable ? No — a man who has all his life 
breathed the free air, who has trod his own prairie and 
forest, roaming at will where he pleased, is not very com- 
fortable lying hand-cuffed and fettered in a dungeon upon 
a heap of dirty straw. No — not comfortable ; far from 
it I” 

“ Oh, Jerome, no, no I I did not mean comfortable. 
But does nobody try to make things tolerable ? Is 
nothing done to lighten the load that the law lays upon 
him ?” 

“I suppose they give him plenty of food, and he has 
his kinnikinnick and tobacco, if he likes them. He looks, 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


621 


though,” (here Jerome stole a glance to watch the effect 
of his words,) “ as if he did not care for such bodily com- 
forts as these. It is not with his outward senses that he 
suffers, unless the sight of that miserable, filthy Wee-kau 
is an eye-sore to him.” 

“ Ah, yes, it is his mind. It is the feeling that he is 
trapped and chained like a wild beast, that is gnawing out 
his very heart,” said Monica, in a tone of anguish. “ Did 
you tell him, Jerome, that I was working for him, — that 
we were both working for him ?” she said, correcting her- 
self as she remarked the strange expression on the face of 
her companion. 

'' I told him all that you bade me,” was the reply. 

“ And what did he say ?” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Nothing? Not even that the words conveyed a hope 
which would cheer and sustain him ?” 

“ He said nothing whatever.” 

“ Jerome, did you use viy name ? Did you entreat him 
not to despond ? Did you tell him that I would — that I 
was certain of getting him set free before many weeks ?” 

“ I told him that.” 

“ And he made no reply ?” 

“ None.” 

“ Jerome, you wring ray heart. Speak more fully. What 
is it? Is he ill?” 

“ I could not tell. He lay with his face turned from 
the little window which lets the light into their cell. 
From the time that I went in, he neither moved nor spoke 
to me.” 

“ Did you question Wee-kau ? What does he say ?” 

“ He says that L’Oiseau Rouge seldom speaks ; that he 
eats almost nothing ; that his life is gone, like the dust 
which is blown into the air.” 

44 * 


622 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“Jerome,” said Miss McGregor, lowering her voice in- 
voluntarily, “ did you inquire if his wife had been to visit 
him 

There was deep scorn in the face of the young man as 
he replied, “ No ; I don’t meddle with such things — me I’^ 
Monica took no notice, but went on : — 

“ My friend, we must not fail. There is life and death 
hanging on our action. All that we have to do must be 
accomplished on the night of the dance at Madame Jar- 
rot’s. We cannot defer it longer. Wau-nig-sootsh-kah will 
die of despair, if he is not released soon.” 

“ That is undoubtedly true. But suppose your father 
should be able to go to the ball, after all?” suggested Je- 
rome. “ His lameness is much better than it was a week 
ago. It may happen that he will accompany you : if so, 
he will keep his party all together, and his eagle eye will 
be sure to be upon your sister every moment. Besides, 
there will be Logan and Ewing, and one does not know 
how many officers, clustering round you young ladies. A 
surprise will not be very easy under such circumstances.” 

“ True, too true. My father’s going would certainly com- 
plicate matters, perhaps defeat our plan altogether. Oh, 
Jerome, what can we do in such an event ? I trust to you- 
to advise me. Whom have 1 but you to rely upon ?” 
She uttered this in a caressing tone, which Jerome had 
hard work to steel himself against. 

“ If matters turn out badly,” he said, “ could you not 
persuade your sister to come with you the next day 
through the garden and out here upon the bank? You 
can make the pretext of a visit to a sick child at a lodge 
which shall be stationed under the willows there. It will 
be as easy, nay, easier, to make the capture there, than 
it would have been at Madame Jarrot’s. A canoe lying 
perdue has only to take its freight and drop a few miles 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


523 


down to reach the Wisconsin, you know. That once 
reached, all is accomplished.” 

‘‘ The plan would be an excellent one, if it were not that 
Madeleine seems of late to have registered a vow not to 
stir a step without her friend Miss Latimer or my father by 
her side. To visit a sick child would, I think, be just the 
sort of thing that would take Miss Grace’s fancy and tempt 
her to obtrude her company.” 

“ And 5^ou cannot find an ei^se for slipping out with- 
out her ?” 

“ I must try, I suppose — invent some excuse, get them 
both out, and then entice the friend away to look at some- 
thing wonderful within the lodge, where Madeleine will 
certainly not care to go. Her friend will be caught with 
the bait of something that promises the gratification of her 
Yankee curiosity. Meantime, Tshah-nee-kah can make 
quick and silent work, I suppose.” 

“ No fears on that score. But one thing: if you do not 
succeed in persuading your sister, remember, at least, to 
come yourself and let me know. I will be here to help 
you with my poor wisdom, and I dare say we can concert 
with the old chief some other scheme for accomplishing 
our ends. He will naturally bring all his faculties to the 
task of rescuing his daughter’s husband from the power of 
the enemy, and restoring him to her arms.” It was pleas- 
ant to Jerome to see how Monica winced at this stab. It 
is rarely,” he pursued, “ that the first effort in any under- 
taking is successful : we may be obliged for still a little 
time longer to watch and wait.” 

He was about to break off the conference, but Monica laid 
her hand upon his arm to arrest him. 

“Jerome,” she said, persuasively, “you will go again 
to the jail to-morrow, will you not ? Tell L’Oiseau Rouge 
exactly what we are doing for him. If you detail to him 


624 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


all our plans, you may interest him and rouse him from 
his apathy. You will go, will you not?” 

“ I cannot say,” said Jerome, breaking from her. “ That’s 
as it may be. Possibly the wisest thing is not to be talk- 
ing, even to him, of what we are going to do.” 

‘‘ How changed he is I” said Miss McGregor, looking 
after him. ‘‘ He is impatient for his reward, and thinks, 
r suppose, that he should receive it in part as he goes 
along. Not so, my poor young friend. I must needs 
have your services at present, and after that it will be my 
task to reconcile you to what is inevitable, if I am here. 
It may be, however,” — and here her lips parted into a 
smile, — “ it may be that I shall be so far away that your 
reproaches will never reach my ear 1” 


CHAPTER LXXIII. 

Miss McGregor gave no further thought to Jerome’s 
disappointment. She, without delay, returned to the house, 
and was not ill pleased to find her sister and Miss Latimer 
engaged with a visitor. The time was past when she 
preferred the solitude of her own chamber. Having set- 
tled, as far as possible, her plans for the coming week, there 
was no occasion for her to indulge in soliloquies which 
could not fail to bring an amount of self-upbraiding. 

Mrs. Holcomb had already established an intimacy 
rather with the McGregor mansion than with its inmates. 
To “ run in sociably” of a morning, an afternoon, or an 
evening, whenever there was anything to tell or anything 
to find out, was her delight ; and if she could make an ex- 
cuse for prolonging her visits to the hour of dinner or tea, 


MARK LOGAN, TUB BOURGEOIS. 


625 


it was a great point gained. She was not tenacious upon 
the score of visits in return. 

“ I understand why you come so seldom,” she would 
say, “ and I think you arc perfectly right. I do not blame 
you in the least. Who would wish to leave such a de- 
lightful home for a visit to the quarters of a lady who has 
not even a parlor to seat a friend in ? Nothing but a bed- 
room I Isn’t that beautiful ! You see I keep my word — 
DO hanging up of a curtain across the room for me ! I 
said I wouldn’t, and I won’t. If Government puts me 
into such shabby quarters. Government may take the con- 
sequences. I am going to write to papa about it. I think 
it’s rather strange that a general’s daughter is allowed to 
be treated with such indignity. There’s Gaylord — I do 
think he is the meanest young officer I ever knew I If 
he had a spark of gallantry, he’d go in with Burnett and 
Smithett and let me have his room ; it’s just about large 
enough to swing a cat round, and he wouldn’t be a bit 
more crowded in with the others than in his little cubby- 
hole. But, just because he is above my husband on the 
list, he insists on having a room to himself. I don’t think 
any girl worth having would ever marry him, if she knew 
that.” 

To Madeleine, whose mind was greatly perplexed by 
much that she had observed of her sister’s movements, 
Mrs. Holcomb’s chit-chat this afternoon was particularly 
distasteful. 

From the window of her own room she had seen 
Monica slip out at the side gate which opened into the 
lane, and meet Jerome, who was returning to the magasin 
from an errand to her father. She had watched them 
saunter together down towards the bank of the river, tilt 
they were lost to view behind the willow-trees. Connect- 
ing this with her sister’s intimate association with young 


526 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Tremblay on the afternoon of the Indian sports, as well 
as with her frequent visits to the magasin of late, she 
was more and more puzzled and distressed. She had not 
forgotten the agitating scene she had witnessed at the 
Portage, nor the conviction that had at that time forced 
itself upon her ; therefore she did not imagine that a tender 
sentiment had anything to do with the interviews between 
Jerome and her sister. 

“But what cam they be laying their heads together 
about 

This was the oft-recurring question, to which she could 
find no satisfactory answer. There was nothing for her 
but to put it aside, as she was wont to do all knotty ques- 
tions, with, — 

“I must ask Mark what he thinks about it.” 

Mrs. Holcomb was more than usually loquacious this 
afternoon. 

“ Oh, girls 1” she suddenly broke forth with, “ we have 
had such times at the garrison! I would say such fun, 
only I suppose Grace would pronounce that unladylike. 
What do you think ? Old Armstrong has been under- 
taking to discipline a couple of camp-women for the benefit 
of the oflScers and soldiers.” 

“Why do you call him ‘Old Armstrong’? Have you 
quarrelled with him already ?” asked her cousin. 

“ Oh, bless you, no ! I know better than to quarrel 
with my bread and butter — meaning the commanding 
officer. But I call him old because he is as old as the 
hills. Everybody in the ariu}^ knows that he pads him- 
self out, and wears corsets, and dyes his hair and whiskers 
— and I’m not sure but that he wears plumpers in his 
cheeks — all out of compliment to the ladies. But now, 
since he has been East and married this pretty, meek 
little wife, he might afford to give himself some ease and 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


52t 


comfort, one would think. Screwing himself in so tight 
must make a man cross ; and we all know the colonel is 
cross sometimes. Oh, the colonel and I are great friends I 
He knows that I like him ever so much. One of these 
days, when I have felt my ground sufficiently and made 
him understand how much I admire him, I am going to 
try to get him to move some of those young fellows and 
let me have a place to turn round in.” 

Nobody applauded this happy scheme of the lively lady. 

“ But why,” she cried, don’t you show some interest 
in the rare doings that I tell you we have had at the 
Fort ?” 

‘‘ You have not given us a chance yet,” said Grace, 
laughing. 

“ They were, as I told you, about two camp-women 
who were always quarrelling, — chiefly with each other, 
though they’d no objection to try their hand on anybody’s 
hair or face that they had a grudge at. Oh, they were a 
pair of viragoes — there was no getting along with them. 
So, when they had pulled each other’s caps and scratched 
each other’s faces times without number, and the sergeant 
had complained of them, and their captain didn’t exactly 
know how to keep the peace between them, and the colonel 
had threatened to have them drummed out of the garrison 
to the tune of — well — the Hussy’s March, if Grace will 
excuse me, — all of a sudden the gentleman seems to have 
thought, ‘ We’ll try what virtue there is in stones,’ as the 
spelling-book says. Not that I think the colonel ever has 
read any too much in his spelling-book, you know. So 
he has a post planted on the bank, out beyond the pickets, 
and a large, stout hoop thrown over it ; then he sends for 
Mrs. Finnerty and Mrs. O’Grady and orders the sergeant- 
major to tie the right hand of each to the hoop on opposite 
sides of the post, and to put a stout switch into the left 


628 


MARK JjOGAN, the BOURGEOIS. 


hand of each, with which she had full leave to belabor her 
adversary. ‘ Now,^ says the colonel,. ‘ let them give it to 
each other till they are tired.’ I’d have given anything to 
have seen it all, but I didn’t dare. I asked the surgeon’s 
wife if she was going out, just to see, you know, if it 
would do ; and, my goodness I such a look as she gave me ! 
You’d have thought I had asked if she was going to steal 
one of the colonel’s pet pigs. I thought I should catch 
sight of a little of the sport by running up to the end of 
the gallery, where there is a corner that looks out that 
way ; but there was such a crowd about the place that all 
I could see was now and then a rod brandished high in 
the air and coming down with a whiz. When Holcomb 
came in, be said the way those two — well, I won’t quote 
the polite term he used — but the way they danced round 
the May-pole, thrashing and cutting at each other, would 
have made a parson laugh.” 

Oh, Edith, please don’t. I do not see how you 
can ” 

“ I ? It’s not I — it is my beloved and respected better 
half whose words I am giving you. Don’t make me re- 
sponsible for an officer’s view of the subject of camp-women, 
nor of the terms in which he expresses it.” 

“ The ofScers are to be congratulated that they have 
found so refined and elevated a style of recreation,” re- 
marked Miss McGregor, quietly. 

Oh, it cannot be possible that officers — gentlemen — 
would be present at such an exhibition 1” said Madeleine, 
unguardedly. 

“ I don’t know who all were there,” replied Mrs. Hol- 
comb, rather sharply. “I must confess I cannot see why 
it is not as suitable an amusement as tying a wolf fast and 
then setting all the dogs in the garrison to worry him ; or 
as a good many other things that men do find pleasure in.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


529 


But a wolf has no sensibilities to be wounded, as a 
human being — above all, as a woman — has,” said Miss 
Latimer. 

“ The sensibilities of Mrs. Finnerty and Mrs. O’Grady !” 
cried Mrs. Holcomb, derisively. “ How Holcomb would 
admire that !” 

“ I hope the poor women were speedily released,” said 
Madeleine. “ If the colonel’s idea was to reform them, I 
can’t imagine this sort of punishment would have the 
effect; and I am sure it was wrong in every other point 
of view.” 

“ Well, if it will be any relief to your feelings, my dear, 
or those of my cousin Grace, who is so fond of preaching 
about sensibilities, I will inform you that the two terma- 
gants had to be untied after a very little exercise, because 
the husband of one of them, who was a corporal, set up 
such a crying, like a great baby, at the disgrace put upon 
his dear Biddy.” 

“ I hope he was not obliged to be there to witness it !” 
said Madeleine, quite shocked. 

“ Oh, bless you, the colonel had all the men paraded 
there as spectators, to teach them to observe peaceable be- 
havior. Perhaps he thought, too, it would be a recreation 
to the. bachelor part of the command, as it evidently was 
to himself” 

“You are making out your friend the colonel to be a 
detestable tyrant,” said Miss Latimer, warmly. 

“ Well, I imagine he is not far from it. Mrs. Armstrong 
told me herself — by way of impressing upon me, I suppose, 
how much her husband despised officers who were at all 
fond of their toddies — that upon one occasion a young 
officer who had just joined came to report himself, and, 
being not quite sober, he stumbled and fell his whole length, 
with his head in the fire-place. The colonel would not so 

45 


530 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


much as put out his hand to save him from being burned, 
but called to his orderly and told him to take that man 
away; and the soldier had to summon in some of his com- 
rades to help him carry off the lieutenant to his quarters.’^ 
With anecdotes such as these did Mrs. Holcomb solace 
her leisure hours. 


CHAPTER LXXIV. 

The day before the opening entertainment of la Sainte 
Feriale was the fast for the souls of the departed , — le jour 
des Morts. Monica and Jerome met at the little chapel, 
and, the solemn service over, the dead remembered and 
prayed for, they walked forth, prepared to give their 
thoughts to the living. 

“ My father will not go to the ball,” said Monica. “ He 
has taken cold in some way, and his rheumatism is worse 
than ever. But a new obstacle arises, — one which will be 
more difficult to deal with, even, than his presence. He 
yesterday bought Judge Belden’s double carriage ; the one, 
you remember, that the judge got from St. Louis last 
spring. As long as my father had only me to drive about 
with him, the old caleche did very well; but now that 
Madeleine has returned, a barouche and pair of horses are 
most suitable.” 

“ Of course, there being more of you, a two-seated car- 
riage must be needed,” assented Jerome, simply, 

“ Yes, as you say. Well, we are all to go in it and re- 
turn together, in accordance with an arrangement my father 
was mapping out for us at the breakfast table. This will, 
of course, put an end to our scheme for to-morrow night.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


531 


'' I don’t see that,” said Jerome, thoughtfully. In fact, 
Monique, it strikes me that we cannot exactly tell before- 
hand what will or what will not take place. Of this one 
thing I am sure, Tshah-nee-kah will be at his post to- 
morrow evening. I have seen him myself. He will lie 
concealed near M. Jarrot’s house. If matters seem to be 
going amiss, so that we cannot accomplish all that we 
wish to-morrow evening, we can at least see and talk with 
the old chief. I will contrive it, and we can settle on some 
plan of action for the next evening, or the next but one. 
After all, this move about the double carriage may not be 
without its advantage. Your father, I suppose, has had 
his horses from the farm brought in, to use in harness. 
They are such fine saddle-horses that you and your sister 
may, some day soon, be tempted to take a ride ” 

“ On horseback so late in the season, Jerome ?” 

“ Oh, to call on the Morrins, for instance. It is a short 
distance, but a lonely road, you know. You might be 
induced to stay to tea and return home after dark. Oh, 
there are many things that may turn up. You and Tshah- 
nee-kah are so wise and clear-headed, you will hit upon 
something if, as I don’t much fear, you should be disap- 
pointed to-morrow night.” 

“ But to-morrow night at the party, surrounded by all 
the world, how can I possibly, without observation, hold 
an interview with Tshah-nee-kah ?” 

'‘Oh, I think we can contrive it. Leave it to me. I 
will take care that you are neither seen nor suspected. 
Have you not said that you relied on me ? and have I ever 
yet deceived you, Monique ?” 

Monica thought there was reproach in his tone. Did he 
suspect the game she was playing ? He must not — for the 
world he must not. She could not at the moment meet 
his eye, but she murmured, tenderly, — 


532 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


‘‘ Indeed, my friend, you are all goodness and truth. I 
do confide in you to the utmost. Only tell me what is 
best for me to do, and you shall see how implicit is the 
faith I repose in you.” 

She wondered that Jerome did not seize her hand in 
rapturous devotion, but immediately she remembered that 
she had schooled him into self-command, and she doubted 
not that he was promising himself full indemnification 
when the right moment should arrive. 

Monica had so much of kind, womanly feeling left as to 
say to her sister the next morning, — 

“ I think, Madeleine, we will wear our dark silks, with 
high neck and long sleeves, this evening ; the nights are 
getting rather chilly, you know.” 

It will perhaps lessen Madeleine in the estimation of 
our readers, if we whisper that she was not entirely in- 
different in the matter of her dress on this occasion. A 
vision of her own slender form in a white tucked muslin 
with blue sash and shoulder-knots, as was then the fashion 
for young girls, had been flitting through her mind, and 
the substitution of a heavy dark silk, which was not 
particularly becoming, was not to her taste. She could 
not bring herself to utter her full thought, but she said, 
truthfully, — 

“Madame Jarrot will think we are wanting in respect 
to her if we do not look our best, you know.” 

“ I think she will be satisfied if we contrive not to out- 
shine her daughter Sophie. If we go in a regular ball- 
dress, it may strike her that we are endeavoring to eclipse 
all the others.” 

“But I was not going to put on a regular balhdress. 
My white muslin is quite simple, you know.” 

“ I suppose it is nicer and more expensive than any 
others of the company can afford to wear ; but perhaps that 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


533 


is right. My father is, I fancy, a good deal richer than 
Monsieur Jarrot, or any of his intimate associates.” 

“I think, however, Monica, that a rich, dark silk has a 
more expensive look than a plain white muslin — don’t 
you 

“ The silk is, at any rate, more comfortable on a cool 
evening.” 

Comfortable ? Oh, dear ! I am not afraid of being 
uncomfortable in my muslin, if that is all.” 

“ That is not all, by any means,” was Monica’s thought ; 
but her outspoken words were a yielding of the point in 
dispute : — 

“ Well, then, since you prefer not to accept my sugges- 
tion, I will follow your example and wear muslin also.” 
A stretch of condescension that amazed Miss Latimer, who 
had not happened to witness an instance of the kind before. 

When Madeleine went in the evening, after her toilet 
was completed, to her father’s apartment, where M. Trem- 
blay was receiving his parting injunctions to prudence and 
watchfulness, she had the satisfaction of hearing her taste 
applauded. 

“Ah I that is right, my daughters. A white dress for a 
young lady is the prettiest in the world.” 

Madeleine gave one more look at herself in the mirror — 
saw that her curls were hanging in the nicest order over 
her shoulders, and that her wreath of green leaves inter- 
spersed with crimson apple-buds was placed so as to con- 
fine them exactly in their proper place. She was then ready 
for her father’s whisper, as he drew her towards him, — 

“ Mallie, darling, if young Logan asks you to dance, I 
have not the slightest objection. I have observed him 
carefully, and I see that he is not inclined to presume on 
any politeness that we may show him. Besides, a Sainte 
Feriale ball is not exactly an occasion where one can ap- 

45 * 


534 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


pear exclusive. It would not do to be putting on airs at 
one of them. Besides, Logan is quite as much of a gentle- 
man as — well, as any one I know of, for the matter of that. 

Madeleine smiled. “ No, papa,” she said, in the same low 
tone, “ I will not be putting on airs. I will dance with 
Mr. Logan if he asks me — and if I do not feel too tired.” 

M. Tremblay, who had been admiring the two elder 
young ladies, was now ready with his compliments to the 
youngest. “Ah! Miss Madeleine, so prit’, so comme il 
faut! Jess so my daught’ shall look, when dey come to 
be young lady of company and go wid de young gent’ to 
one leet’ frolique I” 

“ Well, monsieur, we will not detain you, since you have, 
as we are aware, to escort Madame Tremblay and Miss 
Therfese to the ball. It was extremely obliging in you to 
call at all ; and I am greatly indebted to you for your kind 
offer to take my place and have an eye to my young people. 
I hope they will make you as little trouble as possible. 
If you will just have the goodness to receive them on their 
arrival, and kindly put them into the carriage when the 
dance is over, I believe that is the extent to which they 
need trespass upon you.” 

The words were met with an animated protest from the 
gallant old gentleman : — 

“ Oh, non, non — assurement I shall dance wid all three 
both. Dey mus’ consider me engage for dat. I shall not 
be so grossier, me, to negleck dem. A hieniot, nos demoi- 
selles — we shall have one such nice leet’ frolique !” 

With courteous gestures the kindly-intentioned M. Trem- 
blay set off to commence his round of duteous pleasure; 
and after a sufficient delay, the clock having approached 
within ten minutes of the appointed hour of seven, the 
young ladies carefully put on their wrappings and prepared 
to set forth. 


MARK LOOAJSr^ THE BOURGEOIS. 535 

“ I beg you, Madeleine, to put a very large and warm 
shawl around you,’^ said Miss McGregor, earnestly, when 
they reached the hall. 

“ Why, of course I shall,” said Madeleine, looking at her 
sister in some surprise. “ What is the matter, dear, that 
you seem so anxious about me 

Monica turned away and busied herself about her own 
preparations, without further word upon the subject. 


CHAPTER LXXy. 

“ Why, Jerome, is that you ?” called Miss McGregor 
to an equestrian who reined up beside the carriage just 
after they had passed through the village. “ Why are 
you not attending your mother, or your aunt?” 

“ Because I do not fancy walking all that distance in my 
dancing-shoes,” said the young man. 

Ah ! then it was not gallantry, and the wish to act as 
our special cavalier, that brought you to our side ?” said 
Monica. 

‘‘ I should be only too happy to be permitted,” was the 
reply of the young metif. “ Perhaps I may act upon the 
hint by-and-by.” 

Madeleine listened in amazement. Such familiarity be- 
tween them ! What could Monica mean ? Anct evidently 
Jerome was taking advantage of her graciousness ; for his 
tone, as well as his words, was, to say the least, not defer- 
ential. 

Madeleine had not been completely reassured, even by 
Logan’s arguments. The latter had reasoned from the 
premises presented to his observation ; but his conclusions 
were correct only in part. He had arrived at the convic- 


536 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


tion that the infatuation of Jerome, which had been the 
first sequence of Miss McGregor’s coquetry, had passed 
away. There were no longer the start, the mantling color, 
the trembling hand, the inattention to surrounding inter- 
ests, upon the first faint rustle of her silk dress approach- 
ing his desk at the magasin. Instead of the passionate 
light which had been wont to flash in his eyes as he^caught 
sight of her, there was now a heavy look, as of pain, 
with occasionally a fierce, sombre gleam from under his 
brows, which, had it been towards a man, Logan would 
have thought boded him no good. Jerome had evidently 
discovered that he was being trifled with; and the bour- 
geois felt all the sympathy of a generous heart with the 
sufferings which such a conviction must bring. 

That the conferences between them continued, and that 
the two seemed as confidential as ever, puzzled Logan ; but 
his anxiety took a direction that he could not impart to 
Madeleine. If Miss McGregor had really any deep-laid 
scheme against her sister’s welfare, could it be that she 
would call into her counsels one so simple, so transparent, 
as Jerome ? No ; it must be rather some secret effort to 
be made in behalf of Wau-nig-sootsh-kah, — probably some 
scheme to release the young chief from his dungeon by 
aid of stratagem, such as his own people knew how to 
practise ; and, as Logan in his heart wished such effort suc- 
cess, he was not inclined to throw any obstacle in the way 
of the young lady and her coadjutor, as far as that was 
concerned; Only in regard to his beloved would he be 
lynx-eyed ; for the rest, Monica, he was certain, was safe, 
so far as her intimacy with Jerome was the question. She 
knew what she was about ; Madeleine need give herself 
no uneasiness on that score. With assurances such as 
these Mark had striven to comfort her, but without entire 
success. And, in his pity for the young metif, he had of 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. SST 

late accorded him many indulgences, and overlooked many 
inadvertences, which would at another time have been 
emphatically commented upon. 

Knowing that Jerome was unhappy, Logan had not 
been surprised at a remark from him as they walked from 
dinner to the magasin, that very afternoon : — “ I think I 
shall apply to Mr. McGregor for the privilege of changing 
])laces with my brother up the river. I should like to go 
to the wintering ground among the Sioux at Lac Pepin, 
better than staying here at the desk. And Napoleon is a 
capital accountant, — better than I ; in fact, I find myself 
not so ready, of late, us formerly.” 

“ Yes, I have remarked that myself,” said the bourgeois, 
kindly. 

“ Then you will perhaps recommend the change, if you 
I find opportunity ?” 

“ If you wish it, I certainly will. A winter in the free 
air, with plenty of hunting and fishing, may make your 
‘ duties next year seem less irksome to you.” 

“ Many thanks I” was Jerome’s quiet response; and 
nothing more was said upon the subject. 

’ The house of M. Jarrot was of moderate size and un- 
pretending exterior, as were the homes of most of the 
early hahitans. 

It was built of logs hewed and squared, — a solid, sub- 
stantial structure, with rooms of sufficient size, but of 
which the ceilings were low, the windows small, and the 
walls whitewashed. 

Nothing more simple and primitive could well be imag- 
ined, unless it were “ a lodge in some vast wilderness.” 

There was no lack of comfort within, however. The 
floors were ordinarily covered with the neat, pretty mats 
which the Indian women fabricate with so much taste; 
but these had been removed for this evening, as well as 


538 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


the tables and most of the chairs, in order to give as much 
accommodation as possible to the dancers. One other piece 
of furniture had been allowed to remain, — a long, heavy 
wooden sofa, or settee, made luxurious by an ample wolf- 
skin robe, which screened all its ugliness from view. 

Madame Jarrot’s bedroom, which adjoined the parlor, 
had also been vacated, and Sophie and her brother, aided 
by Jerome and one or two other young friends, had deco- 
rated the walls with evergreens, and hung little tin re- 
flectors, described by M. Tremblay as “ von scant here and 
anoder scant dere,’’ to hold the candles which had been 
sent at an early hour by the proper contributor. 

The officers who were to grace the entertainment with 
their presence had kindly proffered to send the band from 
the garrison ; but the hosts, true to their traditions, de- 
clined displacing the two violins which had for years dis- 
coursed the strains most inspiring to the gay French 
nature of the unostentatious habitans. 

The powers of the orchestra may be understood from 
the customary boast in their favor, “ They can begin at 
four in the afternoon and play you till breakfast-time next 
morning, and never repeat the same tune more than three 
times !” 

Can a modern violinist boast a similar repertoire ? 

The dances in vogue were chiefly cotillons, as quad- 
rilles were then called ; not merely the hackneyed figures 
of Le Pantalon, L’Et6, and La Poule, but an infinite 
variety besides — La Grande Ronde, Le Prisonnier, and, 
prettiest and most graceful of all. La Reverence, of which 
our modern Lancers are an imitation. 

Then there was the Gigue, commencing by a couple 
taking the floor, chassee-ing and balanc6e-ing to each other 
for a time, introducing all their nicest steps and most 
graceful movements, until suddenly a third would “ cut 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


639 


in.” If a lady, the one already on the floor retired, and left 
her cavalier to the new-comer, until he should, in his turn, 
be displaced by a rival, — thus changing and changing, leav- 
ing always one gentleman and one 4ady upon the floor, the 
music all the time going on without interruption ; the 
signal for a cessation was only given when the musicians 
came to a dead stop from sheer fatigue. 

There was another dance, “ Les Olivettes,” — but of that 
in its proper place. 

The company assembled on these occasions consisted, 
for the most part, of the French Canadian and half-breed 
citizens — a gay, simple, cordial people, the young men 
with all the good breeding that ease and a desire to please 
can confer, the girls with a grace of manner and move- 
ment too often wanting in more elevated and aristocratic 
circles. Their frank and good-humored merriment, ex- 
pressing itself in laugh and jest, uttered in the soft, liquid, 
musical tones which distinguish the mixed lineage which 
most of them could claim, had a peculiar charm. Among 
all who were happy to-night, Sophie was most radiant. 
Had she not had Jerome by her side for the greater part 
of the day, and was she not engaged to him for the first 
dance ? Was she not, too, almost certain that what she 
had feared of a bewilderment in regard to her friend Mo- 
nique was, after all, not exactly a bewilderment, but merely 
a passing intimacy, which had its origin in circumstances 
which she could not, it is true, quite understand, but which 
seemed now to exist no longer ? 

So Sophie, her clear, bright hazel eyes sparkling and 
her cheeks all aglow with pleasurable excitement, received 
her mother’s guests with graceful empressement, and was 
assiduous in arranging all things for their comfort and en- 
joyment. 

There were two among the guests who, under a mask 


540 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


of tranquillity, were hiding feelings of which the gnawing 
of the fox at the heart-strings would have been no hyper- 
bolical illustration. 

Throughout the day, — the last, as she told herself, of 
power to draw back and retrace the path she had begun j 
to tread, — Monica had been striving to avert her mental ! 
gaze from the reality of that which she was yet resolved to 
carry through. The picture, in all its hideous features, 
would make itself visible as it had never before done, and 
there were moments when an actual horror would seize her, 
and with a shrinking dread she would ask herself, — 

‘‘ Shall I ? Is there not some other way 

Her gentle young sister, — innocent, as she was forced 
to admit, of intentional wrong towards herself or her peo- 
ple, — was it absolutely necessary to expose her to suffer- 
ing and hardship, to the woes and despair of captivity, — 
and such a captivity , — perhaps to death I Possibly to a 
fate a thousandfold worse than death ; for were there not 
wrongs of their own to be avenged by those into whose 
hands she was being betrayed ? 

The time was past when Monica could delude herself 
with the assurance, They will be kind to her. Tshah- 
nee-kah, for my sake, will be kind to her.” She knew the 
grim old chief and his daughter too well to believe that 
there would be any forbearance on their part. Should the 
Government fail to accept the restoration of her sister as 
a ransom for the Red Bird and his companion, then woe 
to the unfortunate victim who had been offered as the pur- 
chase ! The Winnebagoes would remember the past. The 
whites had shown no mercy — they should receive none 
at the hands of those they had injured ! 

It was hard for Miss McGregor to crush down these 
considerations ; yet crush them down she did, chiefly by 
turning her thoughts to the hapless, despairing Wau-nig- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


541 


sootsh-kah, for whose sake all must be dared and endured. 
“ I will see Tshah-nee-kah myself,” she resolved. “ I will 
impress upon him that only as Madeleine is returned safe 
and without undue suffering can he hope that his whole 
country will escape being ravaged by fire and sword ; 
that in the event of anything beyond the most indulgent 
captivity being for a time her lot, the life of not a single 
Ho-tshung-rah will be spared by the Big Knives.” 

Whether Tshah-nee-kah would believe all this, she did 
not pause to ask herself; let it be as it might, she dreamed 
not for a moment of flinching an iota in her purpose. 

Jerome’s thoughts were not less dark and gloomy than 
Monica’s ; their tendency, however, was to produce a rest- 
less excitement. His features and movements were less 
under control than those of his confederate, and it was 
only by flinging himself into the humor of the occasion 
that he could find a vent for the tumult of his feelings. 

‘‘ How gay you are, Jerome !” said Sophie, as he almost 
seized her in his eagerness to lead her to her place in the 
dance. 

“ Gay ! Of course I am — why shouldn’t I be ?” 

“ But not quite so — so wild. Hemember my maxim : 
‘ Parlez-moi, mais ne touchez-moi pas !’ ” said Sophie, 
drawing away from him and giving her quotation in the 
broadest patois, at which they both laughed merrily. 

Jerome, having secured the position he desired, as the 
vis-a-vis of Miss McGregor and his father, became more 
serious.* The dance had for one of its changes the favorite 
one of the March Cotillon, and during one of its evolu- 
tions Monica managed to say in a low voice to Jerome, — 

“ I must speak with you. Contrive some way for my 
doing so.” 

“ What were you and Monique whispering about ?” was 
the prompt question of the observant Sophie. 

46 


542 


MARK LOG AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ I was thanking her for being so amiable as to dance 
with my father, when there are two young officers who 
would give their heads to be in his place.’^ 

“ Oh, yes ; Monique can be very amiable ! She will 
have to dance with the officers, of course, and with my 
brother Medore, and after that with Mr. Logan, I suppose. 
She may do that, for I see her little sister dances with 
him. And she will naturally dance with Mr. Ewing, he 
being so much at her father’s ; and after a time you will 
have to dance with her, Jerome,” said the cunning Sophie. 

“ Yes, of course,” assented Jerome, with a nonchalant 
air. He had, however, hardly disposed of his partner 
before he was by Monica’s side. 

“ In the next dance we can say what we have to say,” 
he murmured, ‘‘ if you will but call a figure which will 
give us an opportunity — the Prisoner, for instance.” 

Hardly were they upon the floor and the introductory 
ceremonies gone through, when Miss McGregor was ready 
with her question. 

“ Jerome, why did you come to the party on horse- 
back ?” 

“ Did you look carefully at me ?” 

“ No — why should I ?” 

“If you had, you might have observed a heavy blue 
blanket folded under my saddle ” 

“ Side couple, right and left 1” sounded from the prompter. 

“ Yes, I see — I understand ; it was very thoughtful of 
you. Do you know if he is here ?” 

“ He has been, and will be at his post again later in the 
evening.” 

“And can anything be done ?” She raised her eyes 
anxiously to his. 

“ There are eyes watching us,” he said, offering her his 
hand in obedience to the word, — 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


543 


“ Turn partners to places !” 

Jerome found opportunity for one word more. 

“ Logan will probably ask Sophie next dance, or the one 
after ; he told me so. Slip out then into the next room, 
so that nobody shall ask you, and I will join you there.” 

For the next dance, however. Miss McGregor was 
seized upon by Mr. Gaylord, and after that by the son of 
their hostess, so that some little time elapsed before she 
and Jerome could join each other as agreed upon; but 
after a time they found themselves in Madame’s bedroom, 
wedged into a corner behind a group of the elders, who 
preferred looking upon the performances of their young 
people in this smaller apartment, away from what they 
called “ le grand monde.’’^ 

It was impossible but that every word should be over- 
heard ; for the din of the two fiddles near the door-way 
made it necessary for the speakers to raise their voices 
above a whisper. 

“ Luckily, they none of them understand English,” said 
Jerome. “ Now let us settle matters, if possible, no one 
the wiser.” 


CHAPTER LXXVI. 

*‘In the first place, at what precise spot has The 
Autumn^ stationed himself?” said Miss McGregor, avoid- 
ing the mention of a name in French or Puan which might 
be recognized if overheard. 

“ He is, or is soon to be, behind the tuft of cedars in 
the corner of the yard near the end of the porch.” 


Tehah-nee-kah. 


644 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“And where are his people 

“ Some are with the horses, close by ; some with the 
canoe over in the Rapid-rolling* River ; The Otter, ^ with 
his friends and another canoe, on the Great River, J at the 
foot of your father’s garden. They are provided, you see, 
for all emergencies,” 

“And what does he propose ? What is his advice ?” 

“He leaves all to you. He is ready to act when you 
have planned.” 

Miss McGregor pondered. 

“ It seems almost hopeless,” she at length said, “ to at- 
tempt to take her from here, exposed to observation as 
every movement must be. She would be missed ; there 
would be a tumult and a pursuit ; she would be retaken, 
and nothing, or worse than nothing, be accomplished.” 

“ It seems so.” 

“ Then, Jerome, what can be done ? Can you think of 
nothing ?” 

The young man did not answer at once. It was 
pleasant to him to perceive how much she was in his 
power ; to know that although by speaking one word he 
could turn all her sorrow into joy unutterable, yet to 
hug himself with a resolve that that word should not be 
spoken. No ; not for the world would he impart to her a 
piece of news he had accidentally heard, from Donohue 
just as he was setting off for the ball, — namely, that the 
sheriff of the county had sent on his resignation to the 
Governor, at Detroit, and that before another appointment 
could be made, the day set for the execution of the two 

^The Wisconsin. 

f To-shun-neek. 

t The Mississippi. The habitans used this method of disguising the 
subject of their discourse in the presence of Indians who might have 
picked up some of their language. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


545 


criminals would, have passed, and they, as a' matter of 
course, be declared free, there being no functionary to ex- 
ecute the: law’s behests. “:The day is gone by when 
I could do her that grace,” he said to himself. Then, 
aloud, — 

“ I have heard my mother talking, for a day or two past, 
of a little party she proposes to give the day after to- 
morrow. She wishes to invite the ladies of the garrison, 
yourselves, and a few others. Perhaps your father will, 
however, be well enough ” 

“No, no. He said tcJ-day' that he was going to keep 
housed for a fortnight, unless he was entirely well:” 

“ Then, possibly, as my father’s house is at no great 
distance, you ladies might choose to walk, rather than use 
the carriage.” 

“ Of course we should not think of aping the style of 
cities ; particularly if -simple fashions would better answer 
our purpose.” 

“And would you be likely to have any other attendant 
than Baptiste, the little poltroon whom we all know?” 

“i presume not. Who is there that my father could 
summon for our escort, unless it were one of the clerks or 
engages?” , . 

“ Then, while you are on your way, if The Autumn and 
The Black Otter should come bounding forward from their 
ambush, at a ; certain point of the road Where there are 
sure to be no listeners or spectators, and if they should 
amuse themseiV(es by brandishing their tomahawks and 
making alarming demonstrations, you Wbuld naturally all 
take to flight.” 

“ The others would. I should probably show my lineage 
by keeping my ground.” 

“Of course the Puans would neither of them mistake 
you for another. But it would be necessary to have 
4G* 


546 MARK LOGAKi THE BOEROEOTS. 

some mark by which to distinguish youi‘ sister from her 
friend.” 

“If I stood my ground, there would perhaps be no need 
of that.” ' 

Jerome looked at her. “Was she a woman, or was 
she- — — ” He did not finish the sentenee, even in his Secret 
thought. 

“ There sfeems, then,” he said, after a moment’s pause, 
“ only to let The Auturrin know what your plan is, and its 
details.” ' 

“ Your plan, you should rather say. I should never 
have been capable of originating so simple and yet s’o 
feasible a scheme. Jerome, you must n'ot disparage' your- 
self henceforth — ^you are simply admirable !” 

He gave a low laugh. His satisfaction and gratitude 
for her compliment were not so demonstrative as she ex- 
pected ; but this she gladly excused; as she went on ' 

“ And you will not forget a single point of all that we 
have settled ‘On ?” ’ ■ ^ 

“ I think it much safer that you should concert ev^efy 
particular, yourself, with The Autumn. Think how disas- 
trous the slightest mis-step would be I” 

“No doubt that would be best. But how to see him and 
concert with him ?” 

“ Cannot you slip out unobserved and talk a few min- 
utes with him ? He will be at bis post, behind the' cedars, 
in about an hour from this.” 

“Impossible! Such a thing is ndt to' be thought of. 
Somebody would be sure to espy fne.” 

“ Then at the moment when all are going away.” 

“ I should certainly be missed. You forget that I have 
to ride in the carriage with Madeleine and Miss Latimer.” 

“ True. Well, then, suppose you tell your sister and 
her friend, as they are about leaving, that you have de- 


647 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

cide4 to remaia, all njgbt .with Sophie.: You can put on 
yp. 4 r things, you know, and go put with them ; then you 
can come to the conclusion to stay, just at the last mo- 
mept. Being yej*y well wrapped, you will not feel the 
cold much, as you steal off the end of the porch tQ the 
place where The Autumn is concealed, whilp I keep guard 
near by.” , . ; , . ■ . 

“ Sophie^ hoy^eyer, is not pxppcting me tp stay.” 

“ Then, in that pa^, you and, I can walk quietly, home 
after your interview with The Autumn. I suppose some 
of your people ;Will be still up in the house to let yon in ? 
Baptiste,“for instance, will not have finished putting np his 
horses.” , 

“.Jeron^p,.you,arua?e me 1 I had not given you credit 
for such an inventive genius. Nothing, could be better 
planned, or more easy of execution, than your whole 
scbeiiie. It is, as you say, far better that I should see The 
Autumn and -detail tp him pvery feature of our project. 
With a little adroit management, you will contrivp that 
I shall get, to ;him, unobserved. And now we will dismiss 
the subject fpr thiP, present* My mind is at ease, after so 
many days and iyej?ks of uncertainty. What do I not owe 
yoij, my. friend f’N . 

' “ Are you coming back into the parlor ?” said Jerome, 
abruptly, ‘‘,Sonhie has prolbably rfi.nished _her,dance^ by 
this tinid, an d^Avill bej looking for us.” . i , • . i. ./ 

“ She y ill 1)0 satisfied if . jShe sees you,’’ ^id Monica, 
smiling. : ; 

, “ I will go first fpr a little y^hile andcompUment Madame 
Badeau yonder npph the loo.ks and dancing of little Gene- 
vieVel It is well to, keep ‘one’s ‘ self, in the good graces of 
the 'honest people around here, in case that, after all, our 
plans should miscarry, and the Red Bird be left to . the 
mercies of a petition or some such effort,” 


548 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


The “mirth and fun” had “ waxed faster,” if not more 
furious, as Jerome found on his return to the larger apart- 
ment. 

Captain Level had arrived, and was making his salutar 
tions, which were never in thb form of a whisper. He had 
brought Lieutenant Smithett with him, and was now mis-‘ 
chievouslj enjoying the manner in which that young gentle- 
man acquitted himself under circumstanced so new to him. 

Acting on his captain’s siiggestion, he had already drawn 
from his pocket a bottle of olives, which he presented to' 
Sophie, remarking, in a phrase he had diligently studied 
out for the occasion, — 

“ Je veux payer pour mon entree.” 

Sophie blushed, but took the offering, saying, politely, — 

“ Pas besoin, je vous assure, monsieur.’^ 

Mr. Smithett, pleased with his success, followed up his 
first effort with a second. 

“Une jolie partie !” then, looking around indulgently, 

“ il faut que les genisses se divertissent.” 

It was not possible for the young girls, who had clustered 
around to admire a package of green waX candles which 
Captain Lovel was placing in Sophie’s hand, to refrain from 
opening wide their eyes and looking a little offended at this 
strange sally. , 

“ Nous, des g^nisses ! par exemple ?” they whispered. 
Captain Lovel was less reticent. He fairly roared with 
laughter, in which one after another of his neighbors s.oou 
joined, at whatever cost of good manners. 

“Upon my word, young gentleman,” his senior cried, 
when he could articulate, you speak French yoqrself, as' 
an engage would express it; * com me un veau Espa- 
gnCle.’ 


* Like a Spanish calf. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 549 

“ Wby, what is the matter ? What have I said ? What 
have I done ?” asked the frightened young gentleman. 

“ You have nierely called the young ladies heifers, and 
remarked that they ought to amuse themselves.” 

“I don’t believe it— that is, excuse me, I know I never 
said anythirg of the kind. I said young people ^ I never 
thought of such a thing as heifers. What should I know 
about heifers, brbnght up, as I have been,, in the city of, 
New York ? I used a very polite phrase, that I took great 
pains to learn but of my vocabulary expressly for' this 
occasion.” And the poor little mian stamped, and almost 
shed tears of r^ge. 

“ Of course,” remarked a yOung inan of the ponipany, 

: withotit much bettering the matter, 7a and?es 

1 g^nisses are ' so verf mubh alike that any one might mis- 
; take them for each other. Come; monsieur, let me ihtro- 
I duce you to my sister, who seeihs to be admiring your 
, gift, which is qiiite new to us all.” 

So Mr. Smitheff was soothed and^mside much of, till he 
was able to answer with equanimity the .inquiries, — ' 

“ Are they plums ?” “ Are they pickles ?” “ Are they 
to be cooked, or eaten as they are ?” “ Would it not be a 
good thought to save those beautiful green candles that 
monsieur the captain has brought, and, present them to 
M. Saint Train for the altar, rather than use them to dance 
by ?” By which' time the ''self-cOmplacence of the little 
I lieutenant was restored. . 

“ But' where is Monique ? It w^l spoil be' time for her 
5 to come and , oversee the suppef^t^le, as, she, pronii^d. 

^ 0ne would wish to have things af least respectable/ since 
I we have sO much oi le grand m^ride this evening.” 

I Sophie was the speaker. Soihe yoiihg companion 
i answered, — 

I “ Oh, for Monique, she does not come much with ns, 


650 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


you knojy. She seems always in a reverie— not at all like 
the other young people. Not like her sister,, for instapce. 
liook at .her standing there, and monsieur the bourgeois 
bending over tp speak low to her.” 

Ye^, and ,she looking shyly up and then down again, 
as if— if — I wonder if MeGregor would like that, and 
he so,’ proud I But did you not see her the :day of the pay- 
ment? She had hold.pfihiS arm I Yes — 1 assure; you — 
his very arm}” 

. “ But is<she not pretty ?” rejoined, the other. “ Oh, far 
prettier than Monique, who is called.so handsonael” 
Madeleine, flitshed with the exercise of., ‘‘ The Chan- 
treuse,”* which she had just ,gone dpwn, and, with her 
moistened hair a little, put back from her forehead, was 
standing in animated , copy ersati on with the bourgeois, now 
for a second time her partner. They were making the 
most of the golden minutes so rarely occurying. 

Mis^ McGregor, who had just returned .tp the apartment, 
was,.like the young meitives, caught^ by the Sight. , ■ 

“What right has sho to. be, so much happier yhan I?” 
was her gloomy thought. • “ Eyen thaugh her.lovjBr is one 
almost a menial, there seems no obstacle in the way of her 
enjoyment, My father, by hjs presence, migiit have inter- 
rupted their love-making; then, of :COurse, my‘ father falls 
lame,, and leaves his pet to the care of an imbecile, whose 
study seems to be to throw, the iamb into thp jaws of the, 
wolf.^’ ■ ‘ ' * ' . ‘ ' 

Her., own sipiile st£j.rtled her, and lyought a different 
train, of thought and feeling. , i 

“Their, happiness will be but short-lived— I .suppose, 
they are .right to make, the most of it. Day after to-mor- 
row is to be the Tremblay tea-pai'ty, Jepme said ; that 


P An ajr very much like the Scottish “ Loch Errocji Side.’ 


MARK LOO AM, THE BOURGEOIS. 551 

will te Saturday. Ala, yes — that was always Domitile’s 
day for having X50iu|)an^y, Sho, u^ed. t^: say it obliged 
people tp go home early, apd gave .ope, a good ; ehaace to 
sleep late’ the next morning after the entertainment.” 
Monica was glad to banish solemn and dreadful thoughts 
by trifles like these, untd, Sophie, seeking' her if) aid in the 
arraugpment of the su^per-,table,, broke in, and , dispersed 
some of the visions with which her busy brain was 
teeming. “ , , 

The supper on these occasions was npt a gorgeous re- 
past. .^^rdm the .nature of the entertainment, there . could 
be no ostentatious display— the cdntributiousr of the. dif- 
ferent guests making up tl^e staple .pf the bill of fare. 
There were^thTs evening, as we have seen, a few articles 
of luxury from tfie suller'^s store— Smithett’s^ Qliye^,j Gay- 
lord’s preserved " ginger, and- a very respee^ble-lpoking 
fruit-cake, made by the baker of Company “ D,” by order 
of his genial bachelor 'lieutenant. The viands, ;Were, howr 
ever, for the most part of the substantial, homfly kind : 
excellent coffee,, tea,,, and biscuits, boiled ham, chickens, 
grouse, and a-ia-rhode venison. There might he some paips 
of roastdd ducks, arid a dish of avrigneUes, or of crepes 
aux pommes, there being no restriction in the matter. 
The exercise of dancing gave the company excellent appe- 
tites, and it was not a part of good breeding to mince and 
appear fastidiops^. , The - sppper was- to }^,^njoyed as well 
as partaken of ] dnd enjoying it most of the company were, 
at a rather late hour, when Jerpaie. gH(^d Jn with jthe* in- 
form ation,— : _ 

‘‘ It IS growing cold very fast. Have any of you been 
to the door It. is cold epo, ugh for Christmas. I should 
not wonder if we hf^d snow before meaning.” • 

“ Before morning ? Wh}^ it’s almost morning u.pw. It 
was after eleven when we came in to supper,” said Mr. 


552 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Smithett, looking at his watch. Tl^ere were exclamations 
on all hands. 

“Snow, and we so' far to walk! Really, that is not 
amusing! Had we not better set off at once? for it will 
never do to be caught in a snow-storm.’^ 

“ Let us first go and see what the weather is. If it is 
only a little grUe, nobody minds that.” 

And as, in obedience to the last suggestion, the room 
partially cleared of the anxious company, Jerome found 
opportunity to whisper to Miss McGregor, — 

“I’ve set all the old people worrying, and ere Ipng they 
will be hurrying their girls home, which is what I aimed at. 
It is time that Tshah-nee-kah was released from his watch.” 
The report brought from without was, — 

“No danger of snow yet, these two hours. We can have 
two more cotillons dr contra-danses, at the least, and then 
wind up with ‘ Les Olivettes.’” 

“No, no,” cried the chaperons, .in chorus. “No cotil- 
lons I no more dancing, except jiist Los Olivettes — nothing 
more. Les Olivettes, and then we take our departure.” 

“Yes; certainement,” assented M. Tremblay to the young 
ladies under his charge. “ Les Olivettes, and den we mus’ 
wind ourselves up.” 


CHAPTER LXXVII. 

“But who ever heard of a Sainte Eeriale ball breaking 
up before three o’clock ? And now it is hardly one I” 
grumbled the young people. 

“ Ah ! but the snow ! What is one hour, two hours more 
of dancing, if you have to pay for it with tooth-ache or 
rheumatism ?” 


MARK LOGAN, TIlM BOURGEOIS. 553 

“ Wdl, then/’ they whispered, “ the only thing is to spin 
out Les Olivettes as long as possible.” And each swain 
hastened to secure his favorite lady as partner in the 
dance. 

The bourge.ois and Madeleine; Ewing and Hiss Latimer, 
Jeronie and Sophie, Gaylord and Miss McGregor— yes, 
even in this' last dance Mon.ick could stand up and take 
pai’t with a zest and apparent hilarity that astonished 
Jerome, With all his aboriginal self-control. , 

It Was npt every 6ne who could dance Les Olivettes, it 
being not a dancedf universal fashion among ihQJiahitcms. 
The favored few who could boast an ancestry’ from the old 
country, or who had bgured in the nierry-makings of certain 
of our frontier post's, were alone nn /nVf/ and it was by 
them that other's of the present company had been to some 
degree initiated into its mirthful mysteries. 

• “ But who is to call for us? There has been no 
prompter appointed. Captain Lovel,* are you . to be our 
conductor? You must know how to call Les Olivettes? 
They dance it at several of the posts I” cried one and 
another, as the captain Speared from the supper-room, his 
face shining in a richer crimson glow than usual, from out 
its fi-ame of white whiskers. 

“ I ? Oh, no— you have got a bourgeois there ; make him 
call,” cried the jolly captain- , 

“One cannot call and dance at the same time/’ said 
Logan. 

“ Well, then,, there’s Monsieur — I beg pardon — Colonel 
Tremblay. He is just the person, because he speaks both 
French and English so well !” 

M. Tremblay bowed and looked delighted. 

“But'What if I shall make' some blunders— mp ?” he 
suggested. ‘ ' 

“Oh, never mind,” cried the captain; “I shall be by 

4t 


554 MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

your side to set you right. All that you ha^e-jio do is to 
rememb.er the names and tte movement, and to mix them 
lip^'as much as' you can, in giving tlxe word of command. 
I will be umpire, and decide when a young fellow loses 
his place, if .that will help you.’’ • ^ . 

The' gallant, pld gent|eman, seeing himself thus called 
by general acplaim to the post of bohor, took his station, 
with many bow's, at the head of the dance, which was 
already formed after the fashion of n,contra-danse. 

“I shall give de name in English,” he said, /‘because 
our young gent is so many, American. De , French de- 
moiselle shall learn to remember her name, all de same.” 

In this merry dance the ppmpter or conductor assigns 
to .each lady a name' either of his own invention or .else 
one of custorpary usage. The sport is similar in character 
to that of' the English game jdf ‘‘ Coach.”, . , ^ 

The head gehtlemam hegihs 'by, balancing and turning 
each lady whose name is called by, the prompter, and it is 
tfie part, .of this functionary to keep time and ,tuue .with 
his voice to the violins as he givers his orders. 

If either the dancer^ or the lady whose name is called, 
fails in an immediate response to the. word of command, 
a forfeit is declar'ed, the delinquent Is counted out, and 
take^ Ips or her^seat, and the next one begins. The ladies 
generally remembering their own names, it is seldom that 
they are condemned \o pay forfeits. 

“ KoVv— take your places all,” cried Monsieur— or, if the. 
rpdec please. Colonel— Tremblay. ' 

“ Miss Monique, you, stand first f you shall not have ono 
of de old hugly name. Let , me see— you shall be de girl 
wid de red posy.” . , 

“ Scarlet posy would perhaps fit ,the music better,” sug- 
gested daptain Lovel, humming the tune. 

“Ah, yes!~^‘,Now to de girl wid de scarlet posy,’-*^dat 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS 555 

will do extremely capital.. Yer’ nice ! And you, Sophie, 
you shall be '‘de girl wid de linsey-woolsey petticoat.”’ 
Sophie made' a little grimace.* • ' ' ' ' 

“And Miss L'atimore,' she shall be ‘ de girl wi^ de heel’-— 
Oh, no I dat too bad for de nice young lady.” 

“Not at all, nionsieur. I am not particular,'” saM Grace, 
with a merry laugh. “ ‘ The girl with a heel a,iid toe,’ 
is it?” 

“No; wOrSer as dat. ‘De girl wid de heel in de hole 
of her stocking !’ Now de pritty young lady not have no 
heel dere at all. Shall you ‘be Peter — Peter SoMebody’S 
daughter ?” ' ' , ’ ' 

“ No, no ; let me be the other, please. I shall remem- 
ber it better.'” 

“Well, den it is so. And, Genevieve, she is' not yer’ 
beeg, she shall be little Polly Few-clothes. Don’t forget 

dat, ma petite Genevieve!” 

“ Oh, du tout, nionsieur.” 

“And Archange, she' is ‘de girl wid de' silver buckle.’ 
Comprenez-vous/nion enfant ?” 

“ Oh, yes, sir,” said the young girl, proud to show her 

English. \ ^ ‘ ' . 

“And MisA Madeleine, she shall be^ — — ” The cblbnel 
looke.d'puzzled. ' 

“ I think, said Madeleine, throwing. back her hair with 
both hands, I nai^htf pass Tor ‘The girl 'with '^r hair in a 
tangle’.’”. 

“Dat is excellent I— dat just fit,” said the" colonel, hum- 
ming the straih With great glee,— ‘ 

“ Now to de girl wid her hair in a tangle, 

Tid re-i-de i-dow, 

• , ••• y-'.i: .iwi. ’i^d re-i-de i-dotel— 

Dat go ever so nice, so nice. . And you, Mane, you be 
Peter---’’ ' ‘ ' ^ 


556 mark LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

. “ Swisshelm’s daughter,” suggested Captain Level. 

“ Yes, Peter Swisson’s daughter. And Julie, de girl 
what play on de jews-harp. And Madame Du Pin, she 
be de girl wid de checker pocker-han’kerchief ; and ma 
vieille — oh, no ; she is to take les amendes — what you call 
forfeits. She cannot dance. And now we all ready. 
Commencez, and be sure you don’t nobody make no mis- 
take.” 

At a signal the music struck up, and Gaylord led off to 
the tune of La Boulangere. Being, however, unaccus- 
tomed to the dance, he soon grew confused, seized upon 
Madeleine for the “girl wid de heel in de hole of her 
stocking,” and, amid much clapping of hands and laughter, 
was sent to deposit his seal ring as a forfeit with Madame 
Tremblay, and himself on one side as a spectator. 

Jerome came next ; and he kept up well, while his father 
drove him hither and thither, calling now the name of one 
near the head, now one at the foot, and anon varying the 
order by a shout of “ Backy back, and down de mid- 
dling I” as signal for a general dos-a-dos — or “ Cross 
hands, right an’ left. — figure down de centre I’ 

It was truly “ dancing the hays,” to keep up to the mark. 
Jerome divined the ^ impatience of Miss McGregor. He 
knew that she was expecting him to commit an early 
blunder in order to shorten the dance ; but the vanity of 
acquitting himself well,, and perhaps a spice of malice, 
prompted him to hold on until, at the call “ Now to leetle 
PoHy .Few - Clothes I” he really made the mistake of 
offering to turn his young neighbor Julie, instead of little 
Genevieve Badeau, when he too was forced to pay his 
forfeit. 

Ewing and Logan bofh showed that they had good 
iqemoriea and quick ears ; and Monica thought, first of one 
and then of the other, that he would never have done. She 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 557 

stood groaning inwardly, in an agony of impatience, half 
resolving tp blunder when her name was next called, and 
steal out for the interview with the old chief. 

The dread of observation and detection, however, kept 
her in her place until each successive dancer had gone 
through, with more or less applause, his part in Les 
.Olivettes, and M. Tremblay, hoarse yet glorious, was re- 
leased from his vocal labors by the last dancer being left 
standing upon the floor. 

“If the olive-gatherers amuse themselves in this way 
after their day’s labor,” said, Logan to his partner, “ they 
must be a less indolent, enervated people than we are ac- 
customed to consider them.” 

“Ah, you know, then, where the name comes from ?” 
said Captain Lovel, looking at him in some surprise. “ It 
was little Mossop that first adopted it, I think, to shew 
that he had been up the Mediterranean.” And the cap- 
tain further said to himself, “ I wonder what there is that 
that young fellow doesn’t know I” 

Logan, as soon as the dance was fairly finished, went 
forth to look at the night. Having ascertained that the 
carriage had been .sent, well supplied with buffalo-robes 
and blankets, he hastened back to the company. 

“ No redeeming of forfeits, young ladies,’^ he said, “ un- 
less you wish to rid^ home ip a snow-storm. The ground 
is already covered, and fhe thick flakes are blow'iilg.as well 
as falling.” 

“ Not to redeem the forfeits ? What a pity !; it is :Buch 
fun I” murmured the yonng girls, as their mothers hastily 
summoned ,theni to make ready for their departure. 

Logan, in his anxiety on Madeleine’s account, had ven- 
tured to hurry the young, ladies, and Monica showed her- 
self fully on the alert. 

“We must wrap ourselves up well,” she said. “ I hope, 
4t* 


558 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Madeleine, you took the same precaution that I did, and 
wore good, comfortable mocca&ins. Miss Latimer, are your 
feet well guarded 

Yes,” said Grace. “ I think, though, it can hardly be 
necessary to muffle ourselves more than usual, seeing we 
are to go in the carriage. ” 

Notwithstanding her seeming haste. Miss McGregbt 
fidgeted long at the lacing of her moccasins, — -so long, in- 
deed, that almost every other guest had left before she was 
ready to accompany her party to say good-night, or rather 
good-morning; to Monsieur and Madame Jarrot. 

“It is really unfortunate that it is such a cold, blustering 
night I” she thought. “If it had only been' mild and pleas- 
ant I but it can’t be helped. Tshah-nee-kah must be patient.” 

Monsieur Tremblay and his two ladies were waiting at 
the door. In spite of the snow, the conscientious old gen- 
tleman would fulfil to the letter his promise to Mr. Mc- 
Gregor of seeing his daughters into their carriage. 

“It is too bad that they have waited here for us!” 
whispered Monica. “ Madeleine, suppose you ask Madame 
Tremblay and Miss Therbse to ride home with you. You 
and Grace can take Madame on the back seat with you. It 
is but crowding a little.” 

“ And you ?” 

“ Oh, I will not go: I will stay -all night with Sophie: 
She will be glad to have me. I really cannot bear that 
these two ladies ” 

“ Neither can.l. Pray ask them. But I think we can 
take ybu too.” 

“ No, no ; I will rerhain. Let Monsieur drive, and Bap- 
tiste can run on ahead.” 

“ My father will take my horse,” said Jerome. “ He' is 
Lied just beyond there.” ■ : 

“ Dat is ver’ capital,” said M. Tremblay. “ See 'w^at it 


MARK LOGA]S\ THE BOURGEOIS. 


559 


is to have one good son ! And such kind, charming young 
friend too,” he added, with sudden recollection, after which, 
having carefully placed the ladies in the rockaway and 
wrapped them well from the weather, the faithful guardian 
mounted his son’s 'horse and trotted away liy their side. 

“ It is terribly cold, Jerome,” whispered Monica, shiv- 
ering. ‘‘;iWh3-t an .admirable/ idea of yours, bringing that 
hep,vy bluB.blapket .for poor Tshab-nee-kah I’’ • . 

Jerome did not reply. He walked along by her side 
to the end of dhe 1 [title piazza,.: from the level, of w’hich, 
as it had no railing; . Miss Me, Gregor could, easily step 
upon the path leading close by the clump of cedar- trees.' 

“ Keep your statiou'herednithe shadow,” she whispered, 
“ away from the. light vOf the parlor window. I wilhnot be 
long. After I haves spoken with The Autumn, we , will go 
directly home ; for I doubt, Sophie, would not be; too well 
pleased ] to see us^ piake oiar appearance io company with 
each other.” : ' 

“ Don’t hi^irry on my acconnkf ’ said J erome. And, having 
watched her n-ntil she reached the, clump of cedars, he 
turned and glided along ,the' piazza, then down the little 
gravel path and- out of |>he front gate, with swift and noise- 
less step ; nor did he slacken his pace until he .I’eached hi^ 
home, stealing throngh the back door, up the narrow stair- 
way, to, his own {apartment,. ■ _ 

Once only haid/hei;Spoken on. his way. It was when, 
drawing his breath hard through bis ect teeth, he had Said, 
in quiojt triumph, 

“Elle veut s’apparier av^c un gibier PuanI Eh bienl 
— elle le fera— rseulement, ce ne i sera pas avec son gentil 
L’Oiseau Rouge.”* 


* She vtotrld mate with Wthnebago garho ! Very wdl— she shall 

do. it — only it wjll not with her pretty Red Bird. ... 


560 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER LXXVIII. 

Madeleine and her friend occupied the same apart- 
ment. They slept late after their Sainte Feriale merry- 
making. 

When they awoke, it was to sen a mags of snow beating 
against the panes and filling dbe air with its whirling^ 
eddying gusts. 

“ Past ten o’clock!’? cried Madeleine, looking, at her 
watch as she hurried to dress. . “ Poor papa I — he has had 
to take his breakfast alone. I am sorry Cateesh did not 
call us. I wonder if Monica overslept*^ herself too !” 

“You forget that your sister Stayed all night at Madame 
Jarrot’s,” said her friend. 

“ True. Poor, dear, lame papa ! — what will he think of 
us all ? It was too unfeeling in rne not to wake sooner.” 

When they descended to the parlor, finding that Mr. 
McGregor had breakfasted, they repaired at 6nce to the 
library, to inquire after his health. 

“I am well — pretty well— ^that is, better than yester- 
day,” he said, rather hurriedly. He looked grave, and 
Madeleine feared he might be fancying himself neglected. 
S.he began to apologize. ' ' 

“We were so tired, papa I we danced ko many dances ! 
And then the Sainte Feriale parties never do break up 
early, you know. You must eicuse us, please, for being 
so late.” • 

“ Oh, that is nothing, — nothing, my child. You were 
right to sleep. But where is your sister ? Cateesh tells 
me she was not in her room when she went to make her 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 561 

fire — that her bed has not been occupied through the 
liight ! Was she with you 

Madeleine explained Monica’s having giv^en up her place 
in the carriage to Madame Trqmblay and Miss Therhpe, 
and that she had remained over-night with her friend 
Sophie. 

“ But the carriage could have been sent back for her,” 
said Mr. McGregbr, d, little impatiently. “ She knows my 
opinions and wishes in such matters, — that 1 consider my 
own roof-tree the roper shelter for my , children, as Jong 
as they are under my care. But go now and get your 

breakfast, Mallie. Miss Latimer ” Miss Latimer was 

not there ; she had ’ slipped away after the first, salu- 
tation. 

I wonder papa /feels sp annoyed,” said Madeleine,. 
When she fejolued -her friend in the breakfast-room. “ He 
always seems to consider Monica a sufiQcient guide for, her 
own actions. ‘ He very seldom makes even a suggestion 
in regard to her movements ; and at Madame Jarrot’s, of 
all places, what can there be to object to ?” 

“ The Jari'ots are your sister’s own people, too, are .they 
not ? That 1 ^, Madame Jarrot is a Winnebago I” said 
Miss' LMimer, iiiqiiiripgly. . 

There m^y .be a remote cross. of that tribe, but Madame 
Jarrot is a Sioux — that’is, a motive of thM blood. Oh, 
you could tell by Spphje’s regular Grecian face that she is 
of the Ynnkton race.” ; 

“ And Jhe Treihblays ?” , 

“ They^re Puans^ — at least Jerome and his brothers and 
sisters are. The father and step mother are pure Cana-, 
djau ; fb^y have no Indian blood. By-the-by, we are in- 
vited there to-morrow evening — I hope the storm will be 
over!” 

Cateesh, the metive servant-girl, had been coming and 


562 MARK LOGAK,. TUE BOURGEOIS, 

go^ngjWith her customary zeal, attending the young ladies, 
yet with something in her air, and manner which Wd Made- 
leine to remark, when she had for a moment qnitt^ the 
room,— : . ■ i 

“Really, Grace, our laziness seems to have upset^ the 
hoiiselioTd.' Cateesh is evidently in the dumps. Just ob- 
serve, when shje comes in. again, how heavy and forbidding 
her countenance is. Her complexion, which is rueyer too 
fair, seems ten shades darker than usual.” , . 

The girl returned with a fresh supply of avrignelles,— 
a kind of fritters inclosing a cake or ball of chopped a,nd 
seasoned venison. As she placed the dish before her 
young mistress, she quietly remarked, — 

“ L’Oiseau Rouge a trepasse !” 

“The Red Bird dead?” cried Madeleine, springing! up. 
“ Are you certain of it? Who told -you J : What was, 
the’ matter with him ?” . 

“ Creve-cosur, je suppose,” was the brief pply., 

“Poor fellow I” exclaimed Madelein^^ her eyep, hUiug- 
with tears. “Yes, his heart was broken. Th^re pan be 
no doubt of it. Ah I that is what was troubling papa. — 
that is , the reason he was annoyed at Monica’^ absence I 
The Red Bird was her cousin,” she explained to Miss 
Latimei;, “ Grace, dear, can you find something tq amuse 
you for a little while? I think I will go qnd sit with papa 
for an hour or two.” , , , , , . 

“ Oh, don’t mind me,” said her friend. “ I havqygqt to 
write a full description of last evening’s entertainment in 
my journal, and .again in my letter t6 mamma^ in c.ase an 
express is sent next week. If you make a st^’anger of me, 
I shall return immediately to Mrs. Loy|el— remember jthajt.’^ 
Madeleine again joined her father in the library. 

“ This is very sad news, sir, about poor Red Bird 1”, she 
said. . , ; , 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 563 

Ah 1 yon have heard of it ! Yes; very sad. I wish 
you would send Baptiste for your sister as soon as ,the 
storm abates sufficiently.” 

“ Perhaps, as Madame Jarrot is her godmother and the 
family are all of her own religion, Monica might be more 
easily Oonsoled by them than by us,” Madeleine vpntured 
to observe. j 

“ Perhaps so. I should strive to comfort her,” said her 
father, thoughtfully. “ I have always endeavored to, make 
her understand my sympathy, my regret. . But either she 
does not believe my assurances, or she rejects them alto- 
gether. Poor girl ! her lot in life has been a hard one — 
not the less so that its most painful features have been, in 
a measure, of her own fashioning.” 

He sat for some time looking gloomily into the fire. 

Madeleine at length interrupted his reverie with the 
inquiry, — 

“Was the Red Bird long ill? Had he any com- 
plaint ?” 

“ Nothing, I fancy, but discouragement, despair. Cap- 
tivity is so dreadful' to one who’ has been always free as 
air! And of his captivity he doubtless fbcesaw no end 
save an ignominious death.” 

“ But is not the weather beginning just now to. lighten 
up a little ?- Go to the window, darling, and see if it is 
going to clear. You had better, upon the’, whole, ,send 
for . your sister. Home is certainly the best place for 
her. Ifi ought to be the most desirable place, all things 
considered.” 

The snowgradusdly grew lighter, then ceased aftogether. 
The chanticleers of the neighborhood mounted the feit 9 es 
and sent forth their cheCrful announcement of the return 
of fair weather. Even before these cheering prognostics 
Baptiste had been dispatched t6 Madame Jarrot’s with 


mark LOGAN, TEN BOURGEOIS. 

the carriage and a note from Madeleine requesting her 
sister, in her father’s name, to return. 

It seemed a much longer time than was necessary to 
drive to Madame Jarrot’s and back again before the mes- 
senger returned with the note, and word that “ Miss Mo- 
nique was not there, — had not been at Madame Jarrot’s 
since she left at the breaking up of the party the night 
before.” . 

“Perhaps she may have heard this news just as. we 
were leaving, and so went to the priest’s house and stayed 
all night with his sister, Miss Rosalie,” suggested Made- 
leine. “ Shall I put on my things, papa, and go there to 
inquire?” 

“ No ; Miss Monique is not there,” said Baptiste. “ Miss 
Sophie got into ; the caleche with me, and stopped at Le 
Pere St. yrain’s and talked with Miss Rosalie. No Miss 
Monique there.” 

“ Where did you leave Miss Sophie ?” inquired Mr. Mc- 
Gregor, anxiously. 

“ Miss. Sophie made me bring her first to M. Trem- 
blay’s, and then to the priest’s house, and after that to 
the magasin, where she stopped and sent me home. I 
was to tell Miss Madeleine that Miss Sophie would be 
here presently.” ; 

“ Sophie might have come here at once, knowing how 
anxious we would be,” said Madeleine. 

“ Anxious !— yes I What can it mean ? Where can 
your sister have gone ? Where did you leave her, my 
daughter?’ 

Mr. McGregor, notwithstanding his lameness, could not 
keep his seat. He was now standing upon the rug, now 
hobbling to. the window to look abroad, now opening the 
door to listen for qny arrival. 

“ Tell me all about it, when and where you parted.” 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOUROEOIS. 565 

Madeleine repeated what she had already told, of 
Monica’s proposition that the ladies Tremblay should ride 
in her stead, saying that she would remain all night with 
Sophie, and of her standing on the porch, wrapped in her 
cloak and hood, and watching them off. 

“And who was there at the time, besides your sister?” 

I think M. Tremblay was standing by her when we 
drove oflfj but it could have been but for a moment, as he 
overtook us, riding on Jerome’s horse,, before we had gone 
more than a couple of rods.” 

“ And was there no one else there ?” 

“ It was all so hurried, and we were so busy huddling 
Madame Tremblay and Miss Therese out of the snow, 
that I did not take much notice. I think, however, that 
Jerome Tremblay was there. Yes, he was; for he:ofifered 
his father bis horse,' saying that he would walk home.” 

“ Jerome, then, may know something of her whereabout ; 
but then, good heavens 1 what business; is it of his ?” said 
Mr. McGregor. “Send for Logan, instantly. Oh, this 
lameness ! If it had but come at any other time I Hark I 
there is the knocker 1 Somebody is coming. Perhaps it is 
your sister, after all.” 

“ Only that Monica would not knock,” said Madeleine, 
running before Cateesh, to open the door. 

“ Ah, Sophie,”' she cried, “ have you brought us any 
news?” 

Sophie only shook her head, and looked mysterious, as 
Madeleine hastened to usher her into her father’s presence. 
She had already dispatched Baptiste with the message to 
the bourgeois. 

“ Nobody seen her since last night ? What can that 
mean ? Monica is not a person to do; any thing desperate, 
— ^^even if she had reason,” he added, correcting himself. 

My 'darling, do not distress yourself. Who would 
48 


566 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

harm your sister ? All her own people are devoted to her. 
The uncertainty is not comfortable ; but we shall find 
where she is as soon as Logan comes. He will find out 
all about it. What does M. Tremblay —what' does Jerome 
say?’’ . 

‘‘ They both say that they parted with dear Monique on 
our porch ; that she was just turning back *to pass the 
night with us, having given that poor Miss Therese her 
seat in the can’iage-— so amiable as the dear angel always 
was !” - : . .1 

Sophie’s tone and manner implied that she considered 
it all over with her friend. 

“We had better send to the jail,” said Mr. McGregor, 
abruptly. ' “ It may be that, hearing of Wau-nig-sOotsh- 
kah’s illness, She hastened there to minister to his last 
hours. Mallie, send some one- — or stay — I can go myself.” 
And he limped towards the doOr. 

“ No, no ; it’s of no use tO go there,” said Sophie. “ My 
father was down at the jail early this mornings • He was 
notified and summoned for something abbht the body. 
When, he came back, be told us Father St. Yrain was there, 
and Judge Belden and some other m^n; and he would Cer- 
tainly have mentioned so strange a thing ah the poor 
Monique’s being there. Besides, did I not See Father 
St Train hiinself, who questioned me ?” •; ' 

Sophie was by this time crying — perhaps at sight of 
Madeleine’s tears, which were flowing fast. It This be- 
ginning to be a serious matter. Every probable' ‘plftce for 
Monica to have gone to waS^suggested, and each in turn 
proved to be entirely out of the question. She had been 
on foot, wrapped up for her drive^^ — thus much was kho\\m, 
but no more. Had she a companion? Nobody could 
tell. ■ 

“ Jerome seems to have been the last person who spoke 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 56t 

with her,” said Sophie, “ but it was for only an instant ; 
for though Mr. Logan and Mr. Ewing started off before 
him, yet he got home only a minute after them. Madame 
his mamma scolded him for having forgotten to bolt the 
door, and made him come down tlie stair to do it.” 

This was aloud the benefit of the company; but 
Sopliie then drew^ a little aside, and whispered Miss 
Latimer,— - . . . 

“4^ very strange — but the lastThat was seen of 
poor, (i ear Monique was just at the very moment, when 
L’OisSii also departed' Tbe^ were as one in 

heart aVd soul, and n&her could stay without the other. 

I have^ heard my mother and my grandmotlper say t^hey 
have linoWn many insta-nees where, the lover appeared cu • 
r'evendht, and bore away his., lady-love with him to the 
happy land.” , , ' , 

*‘ But Miss ' McGregor is a Clirrstian,”., objected Miss 
Latimer. can hardly suppose- she h'aS; g'one to ,a 

pag-an paradise.” . ’ 

. Sophie shook her head. 

‘^With th^iiiah^sh^ioved, she would not be particular. 

I know this poor, dear. Monique so well. She has gone 
with the. feed Bifd. Poor soul ! poor soul I J believe we 
shall. never set, eyes oniier again l Depend upon it, they 
went togetlier. - And'to think that'poor 'fellow did not wait 
till just dills very day. I .’Did Mr. McGregor hear that the 
sheriff had. 'given up hfs !place ? A^es, indeed 1 He sent 
his ijesigoadion t'd /the Governor. by, the very last express, 
an(i pever tbid <5f it till yesterday evening. If L’Qiseau 
Rouge had o'niy known that there was no one now to hang 
him, ne need not have taken the poison 1” 




668 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER LXXIX. 

To those who were so , anxiously waiting, the half-hour 
which elapsed before the bourgeois made his appearance 
seemed almost iuterminable. 

Madeleine’s solicitude would have been augmented by 
his requesting to see her father alone, if a few whispered 
words as he was entering the library had not helped to re- 
assure her. • . 

“I think I have news of your daughter, sir,” Logan 
began, as soon as he had closed the door. V She is safe, 
there is every reason to believe. I waited to, get, every 
particular; — all, at least, that could be told— before obeying 
your summons.” . 

“ Be quick and tell me all about it I , Where is she ? 
How is she ? What is the meaning— ^ — ” , 

“ I had not yet heard that Miss McGregor was missing,” 
said Logan, “ when Michaud came to me. ‘ Is all right . 
with not’ gentilje denmiselle V It is thus that he always 
designates Miss Madeleine. ‘All was right,’ I said, ‘last 
night. I saw her safe home after the St Feriale ball at 
Madame Jarrot’s. Why do, you asji ?’ He went on to 
tell me thaf Comtois and another half-breed, having been 
up to the Wisconsin to shoot ducks,^ had camped near the 
Rigolet last , night, and, the show coming on, they had 
taken an early start to return home this morning. Just 
as they were rounding the point on the western opening 
of the Rigolet, they came upon a canoe, paddled hy tWo 
Indians. There was a third person in the canoe, as they 
could just discern through the falling snow. They thought 
it was a squaw bundled up. They were the first to give 


569 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

the whoop, when this person, who it, appears was a 
woman, raised herself, put back the blanket that was over 
her head, and looked forth ; upon which one of fhe Indians 
quickly drew her down and covered her closely with the 
blanket in which she was wrapped^ Comtois said he saw, 
by the color of her hands, which were fair and delicate, 
that it was no' squaw. The men both remarked it. If 
there had been any but Indians in the canoe, and if there 
had not been this sudden thrusting down the woman and 
enveloping her. in the blanket, they would h^ve supposed 
it was some : trader’s wife going to her husband’s post up 
the river. These movements, and the fact that the Indians 
did not return the whoop cheerily, gave rise To suspicions. 

, Another thing that they both remarked was, that the 
blanket which was drawn 'over the. woman was a large new 
blue one, and they knew it could not have belonged to the 
Indians themselyes^- unless it had been given to them ; for 
they, as w:e know, will buy a white, a red, or a green 
blanket, but rarely a blue one. 

“ The men called, 'Bon-jour I’ and were approaching to 
salute, haore particularly, when the I^eechees paddled away 
up the river with rapid strokes, showing that they desired 
no company. The men set their faces home ward, and got in 
early in the forenoon ; and, regarding what they had seen 
as suspicious, they ,at o,nce made inquiries whether any 
traders’ qr clerks’ wives had gone up the river lately. 

“ When they found that none had gone, they came with 
their story to old Michaud, who is a sort of ora-cle among 
them.” 

“And you rthipk -it possible that my daughter— one of 
their own race — has been captured and carried away by 
these wretches ?. That seems to me very unlikely.” 

“ To me it seems not only probable, but certain,” said 
the young man, respectfully. “ I have long had reason to 

48 * 


5Y0 MARt Lb GAN, THL^' BbirRi^mh. 

believe that the friends of the' Red, Bird lad' a plan for 
possessing- themselves of Some indiVidu^l whom they eoald 
hold as a hostage for the ransom of these prisoners. 
Moaway gave me a hint to that effect soon after the sur- 
render of the young chief.” 

^‘And you never made it known, or put us on our 
guard 

If you recollect, sir, I did endeavo'r' to awaken your 
suspicions of mischief being on foot, some weeks 'since, 
and measures were then taken for redoubled vigilance. 
But there is a secret treachery, Against which, no vigilance 
can guard.” 

“ True, ttue— you did endeavo'r to Open my eyes. Ho,w 
blind I hare'been! But what put it into Michaud’s head 
to associate' Madeleinel with the' mystery of the canoe 
which the two half-breeds saw , 

‘‘ I cannot tell,” Logan hesitated. This was a point upon 
whihh ho could not enlighten the father. “I suppose,” 
he said, after a moment, “that Michaud has no great faith 
in his friends the PuariS. I doubt not his conviction is 
the same as mine,— that the sister captured is hot tfe one 
at first designed to' be secured.” . ^ 

Mr. Mcdiregor Turned pale. “ You do not mean to say 
that you suspect them of designs against; ihy M;aine- — -” 
“ I not only suspect, but Am sure hf it — sO muclVso, that 
there ' has not been a night since two weeks before the 
payment, that a patrol has not been kept around^ your 
dwelling, sir, till the light mbrning hours, to ward off any 
possible danger.” ^ 

Mr. McGregor seized the ydiing man’s hand and wrung it. 
“ I understand,” he said ; and for an instant neither spoke. 

“ But as for Monica’s being taken by mistake, hOw could 
that possibly be ? Her very first word would show them 
who she was.” ^ • ' 


MA^K LOQAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 571 

“ If they allowed her ; to speak that word,” said the 
young man. “One thing is certain, khe is gone,. What 
concerns us now Is to follow and bring her ' back. I had 
taken the liberty, before receiving your summons, of 
dispatching Letellier, a capital walker, to Day-kau-ray at 
the Barribault, apprising him and Kar-ray-mau-nee of the 
abduction pf your daughter ; for the moment Ewing in- 
formed me that- there was a, search for Miss. Mcpf^gor, I 
understood that the wrong person had been captured. I 
warned the chiefs in my message .of what would happen to 
their whole nation if the prisoner were not returned forth- 
with in all safety and honor.” 

Thank you, thank you. And now ?” 

“Now. I shall, with your permission^ set off at once, in 
hopes to intercept, them at some point on the Wisconsin. 
The news of the Red Bird’s death will travel fast; and, 
that known, all, necessity . for a hostage ceases, and the 
captors, who can be no othfer^than the- family of the: young 
chief, will ; douhtless take, the first ppportunity of disem-. 
barrassing themselves of their charge.” ,. 

“Yes, if, it were'on-lytha.t,— if it Were only, as a. hostage, 
that- my.pO|pr child was taken^” said Mr. McGregor, with a. 
pained ; .e:^pression. “ My first tHpught was, Who would 
harm her ? But now, J begin -to fe^r some de.ep scheme. I 
r^Gognizp a ^’Oman’s hand in this. Yet pardon, ^e^r-these 
are jthingSjWhicli you cannot pnder^fkp^. Bo.you ^a^ that 
you are regdy to go to iji-Cr rescue ? God bless yoii ! God in 
heaven will bless you ! .Bping i^e bacjk .m^ child in safety, 
and, if , a father’s gratitude can find fitting reward— r— but, 
oh, iose.^no time. Y ou dp no.t kno w sb w.ell as I what demons 
there^ are .among them.” . . > . 

“ I am rei^dy to set out at on^e,” said Logan, cheerfully. 
“1 must- be furnished with , a good horse and saddle, for 
Miss Mc&egor.' I have aiready engaged M^dore Jarrpt’s 


5T2 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 

fine traveller for myself. The kind young fellow would 
have gone with me ; but I prefer to take only Michaud, to 
whom I aril accustomed, as guide and scout, and, Benoit 
as interpreter, with a pack-horse to ‘Carry our provisions 
and such necessaries as Miss Madeleine will furnish me 
for her sister^s comfort.” 

“ Go, then, and find Mallie, and tell her as much as you 
think best of what you have told me. Ask her to provide 
you W’ith an outfit for. her poor sister. Would not the 
journey back “be made with greater ease in a canoe ?” said 
the father, anxiously. 

“ With the thermomete^r as it has stood to-day, we Should 
be in danger of being arrested by ice in the, Wisconsin.” 

“True!, true! You have calculated all the chances, I 
see. Well, Monica is an experienced horsewoman ; she. 
will stand, the journey when she has hope to cheei; her. 
How soon do you think we may look for your return ?” 

“ If I have, to go all the way to the Barribault, we' cannot 
be'back before the fourth day, let Us travel our best- But 
if we overtake the party at some nearer point on the river, 
of course our journey will be propOrtionably shorter. De- 
pend upon our using all possible dispatch. . And now fare- 
w^ell, sir, Keep up a good courage — Michaud will have 
all things in readiness in an hour’s time.” 

Mr. McGregor rang the bell. Which was . answered by 
Madeleine, who had been walking Up and down in the hall 
in a state. of painful suspense, notwithstanding the partial 
relief Logaii'’s hurried words had given her. 

Her father hastily explained to her their suspicions, and 
the plans of the bourgeois. Her anxious look towards him 
was not lost upon Mr. McGregor. She said not a word, 
however, as she hastened to give Baptiste the order to 
saddle “ Duke,” her sister’s favorite horse, and take it to 
the magasin to old Michaud. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


573 


It is probable that while arranging with the bourgeois 
the outfit for her sister’s comfort some words of good cheer 
were let fall, for she lodked less pale and care-worn when 
she again rejoined her friend Grace than she had done 
earlier in the day. 

“ You have, of course, carte blanche as to porches, bear- 
skins, blankets, and whatever else you may think proper to 
take from the magasin,” were Mr. McGregor’s last words. 

“ That was well' understood; and as' Michaud, with 
Madame Amelle at his command, underkands providing 
for the well-being' of travellers, you may be perfectly edsy 
upon the score of Miss McGregor’s comfort, so far as our 
efforts are concerned.” 

“I aw perfectly easy— I feel that everything is being 
done that can be done. God speed you, and God reward 
youl” And with these words, and a warm clasp of the 
hand, both father and daughter bade the bourgeois farewell. 

Logan had an brrand to the magasin, qtiite aside from 
the business offselecting appliances for making hiS journey 
comfortable. On entering the retail Stofe, he walked straight 
up to the young-clerk in charge, who was seated at his desk. 

“ Let me look at your day-book, if you please, Gautier,” 
he said; 

The young man looked up, alarmed at something in the 
tone.'-' ' ■ •; ' ' ' ' : ' 

“ Anything wrong- about my accounts, Monfeieur Mark ?” 
he asked. 

“Oh, no,” said the bourgeois, with a smile. “Only, I 
like to examine for myself, now and then, how matters are 
going.” 

He turned over a few pages of the more recent entries. 

“ Ah I” he said, “ Jerome is going to treat himself to a 
new capote, is he ? . Four-point — blue — that is exactly 
what I want.” 


5U MARK LOGA-N, T^E BOURGEOIS. 

“It was the last of the bale,” said Gautier; :“l)ut I can 
call Pierre to go up with me and bring down another bale.’^ 
“ ’Pas besoin; I will borrow Jeropie’s, and you can get 
him out, another.” He passed into the larger warehouse. 

Jerome sat there, pretending to write, but he was, in 
fact, wrapped in profound meditation, as he leaned his head 
upon bis hand. 

“ Will you let me have your new blue blanket,?,” Logan 
said. “ I am somewhat pressed ; for time, and there are 
none unpacked in .the magasin.”, 

The^ metif’S: countenance grew visibly darker. 

“My, blue blanket? I have none—that is, I am afraid 
I have lost it.^’ , , 

had it-with you last evening,^ I observed,” jsaid 
Logan, fixing his eye upon him. , 

“Yes,” said Jerome, without losing hi^^ ^elf-possession, 
“ and it may have, been left at M. Jarrpt’s. I did net:ride 
honae, you remember — I gave my horse tQ. my Mher, and 
he did not bring the blanket home, I find. I must send to 
M. J^rot’s and see if it has been left there.’;’. ■ , 

“ If you happen to be unsuccessful,” said the bourgeois, 
“ wei are just setting off in search of Miss McGregpr,{ and 
we may have the good fortune to find your blanket for you 
at the same time.” ' : , 

And, turning upon his heel, Logan quitted the warehouse, 
leaving the young m^tif glaring after hini in [trpubled 
amazement. 


MARK ioGAX TEE BOVRGEOIS. 6^5 


CHAPTER LXXX. 

The weather continued bitterly cold after Logan’s de- 
parture,—^ circuinstance that aggravated the unhappiness 
which the thoughts of Monica’s sufferings and exposure 
Caused tO' those at home. Miss Latimer, with her charac- 
teristic discretion, insisted, on passing her days with Mrs. 
Lpvel, thus leaving^ Madeleine free to devote every hour to 
the comfort of her father. 

Her return at' evening brought a glow of something 
akiii to cheerfulness, for she' had always a fund of new and 
' amusing details, every character in the garrison seeming 
to be either an original whose sayings and doings were 
worth chrohicling, or else a person' whose life had been so 
full of adveUtUre that the narratives with which the young 
visitor had b^bn ehtdrtained vvere more like the pages Uf a 
rOmiance thatt likb sbber reality./ 

The quiet Suhday CamC' If was ptoed as usual, the 
morning in the library, where ^r. McGregor went .thro.ugh 
with them a portion of the Church 'service, followed by .a 
sbrmon of Bishop Horne, “ Daniel in, Babylon.” / It was 
comforting tb Madeleine, for ^he said to herself,— 

“ Mbnica is sd pious, so devoted to her religibh, that 
*the God whom she serves, He will deliver her.’”,'. And 
then she 'thought with Satisfaction of the earthly instru- 
ment by whose hands that deliverance would, in all proba^ 
bility, be accomplished. 

Late in the afternoon they were startled by the sudden 
and laConic announcement of their customary herald. Car 
teesh,— ‘ Tin bateau vapeur, ! Abas I” 


5t,6 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

“ A steamboat ? Of course it is the Astor. She is the 
last one, I believe, that is expected before navigation closes. 
Now we shall have letters, Mallie.’’ 

Madeleine was already at the window, and her father 
followed as well as he was able,. • 

“I wonder if she brings passengers?” he said. “My 
daughter, I think I feel a good deal better tor^ay. It will 
not hurt me to go down to the boat and learn what news 
she brings, or if there have strangers, or possibly friends, 
arrived. Ask Baptiste, will you, to bring round the ca- 
liche ?” 

“ Ah, papa,” remonstrated Madeleine, “if you go down, 
you will stand about upon the cold ground or damp decks, 
and make yourself sick and lame again !” 

“ Nonsense, my darling 1 I will take the best of care of 
myself. Do you think I am such a foolish old fellow as to 
be courting a return of the enemy I am just getting rid 
of ? But I have really been doubting for the -last two days 
whether it were wise to sit mewed up within-doors, day 
after day. Give me my blanket coat and my buffalo 
shoes ; then, with my raccoon cap and the nice warm com- 
forter you have knit me, I think I may bid defiance to-the 
blasts of old Boreas.” 

Mr. McGregor wrapped himself up and departed, leav- 
ing Madeleine to, her musings on her absent sister, as well 
as on the one who had gone. with but “a corporal’s guard” 
into the heart of a country which, as it appeared, was still 
that of the enemy. 

“ He is so daring, so forgetful of himself I Oh^ it was 
a terrible risk I And yet I would not have had hini shrink 
from it. How sad that Monica would never be his, friend 1 
When she se^s. what, he has undertaken for her, she will 
regret that she has so undervalued him!” In ponderings 
like these, not unmixed with occasional tearsy the hours 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


57 *? 


passed by till she heard again the wheels of the caleche 
rolling over the frozen ground and stopping at the front 
gate. It was nearly dusk, yet she could discern two 
figures alighting from the vehicle. 

“ A gentleman with papa I Some stranger come in the 
boat. What can a traveller be doing here, at this time of 
the year ? Wbo can it be ?” 

It was not until her father ushered in his guest that 
her astonishment was at its height. 

“ Mr. Lindsay!” she exclaimed, without power to utter 
another word. 

“ Yes, my dear,” said that gentleman, coming forwards 
and unbending from what seemed a habitual stateliness as 
he drew her towards him and kissed her affectionately, “ it 
is even I ; and truly am I grieved to meet my friend’s 
family under such afflicting circumstances. I had hoped 
that I was the only mark for such a dart ” 

He stopped short ; and whether it was the troubled look 
he cast upon her, or whether his words awakened anew 
the train of thought that had been for a moment sus- 
pended, Madeleine gave way entirely, and, sinking into a 
chair, covered her face with her hands and wept unre- 
strainedly. 

“ Do not cry, do not cry, my dear,” said Mr. Lindsay, 
taking her hand again. “ You, at least, have nothing to 
reproach yourself with ;” — an address at which Mr. Mc- 
Gregor was quite mystified. 

“ Madeleine’s nerves are a good deal shaken with the 
events of the last few days,” he said. “ She has usually 
a gopd share of self-control ; but these late events have 
naturally somewhat upset her. Go now to your friend 
Grace for a while, my daughter ; and, when you are a little 
composed, order a good fire in Mr. Lindsay’s room, and 
see that Josette gives us something nice and hot for 

49 


5*78 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


supper. We must not forget that our friend has had only 
traveller’s fare for the last few days.” 

As Madeleine left the room, Mr. Lindsay looked after 
her tenderly. 

“ How can I ever forgive myself,” he cried, in a tone of 
compunction, “ for all the misery my insensate pride has 
occasioned those two young hearts ? Angus, your pres- 
ence, the tone of your voice, seems to thaw away the icy 
crust which worldly prosperity had heaped over my better 
feelings. I must confess, and ask forgiveness.” 

Mr. McGregor turned on his friend an inquiring look. 

“ I do not understand you,” he said. 

“ Do you mean to say,” exclaimed Mr. Lindsay, “ that 
you are not aware of my tyrannical interference to break 
up the attachment between my son and your daughter ? — 
how I commanded him to give her up, and because he 
would not, could not yield, I madly drove him from me ?” 

“ I was aware that you and your son had had a dis- 
agreement — your own letter to me implied as much,” said 
his host. “But for my daughter’s being in any way con- 
cerned in the matter, this is the first time I have heard 
a suggestion of the kind ; and pardon me for saying that 
you deceive yourself in imagining there was such an at- 
tachment as you speak of, on her part.” 

“ Is it wounded pride that impels you to say that? Is 
it to rebuke and mortify my egregious folly, that you 
deny your daughter’s attachment to my son ?” asked Mr. 
Lindsay. 

“ Not at all,” said Mr. McGregor, calmly. “ I tell you 
what I know to be the truth. That Madeleine has a 
warm, a very warm, friendship for both your children— 
for Malcolm as well as for Clara— I do not pretend to deny. 
I cannot, of course, understand your objection to her as 
a wife for your son, had such a union been the wish of 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


5t9 


both ; but I say it to relieve your mind from any remorse 
as far as she is concerned, that Madeleine has no senti- 
ment warmer than that of sisterly affection for your son. 
So far from it, the watchful, scrutinizing observation of 
the. last two months has convinced me that her heart is 
given in quite another direction.” 

“ To another ?” cried Mr. Lindsay, in a self-accusing 
tone. “ Then have I indeed, by my ambition and self- 
will, shattered my poor boy^s hopes for life I For Made- 
leine did love him — at least he believed so — and the treas- 
ure of her affection was more to him, as he showed, than 
all the world beside.” 

In his nervous excitement, Mr. Lindsay rose and paced 
the room ; then, suddenly stopping before Mr. McGregor, 
he said, more ealmly, — 

“ I cannot but feel persuaded that you are mistaken as to 
your daughter’s preference for another. There may have 
sprung up some fancy, some temporary fascination, to 
which she, may have yielded in the conviction that former 
sentiments, must be forgotten,. — a momentary preference, 
perhaps, for the pomp and circumstance of military life.” 

Mr. McGregor shook his head. 

“It is no young militaire,” he said. “I shall possibly 
lay myself open to your scorn,” he added, a little loftily, 
“ when I tell you that the object of my daughter’s choice, 
and, although neither he nor she suspects it, of mine also, 
is simply a young man in the employ of the Company — 
the same who has, as I told you, so nobly volunteered to 
go into the heart of a hostile country to rescue and bring 
back to us our poor Monica.” 

Mr. Lindsay was silent a moment from astonishment ; 
then, with a look as if still incredulous, he ejaculated, — 

“A clerk ! an employ^ I Angus, have you forgotten all 
your early traditions ? Would you give your daughter 


580 


MARK LOO AM, THE BOURGEOIS, 


to such a one, rather than to the son of your old 
friend 

“ That is a question that has never till this moment been 
presented me,” replied Mr. McGregor. 

“ I feel the implied reproach,” said Mr. Lindsay, “ and 
I owe it to you to explain the grounds of the objection 
which, as I have admitted, once had weight with me. 
Remember, I undertake to explain, not to defend them. 
But even that I cannot do at this moment ; I must have a 
little time to recover from the shock these assurances of 
yours have conveyed. I came out with such different 
hopes. I had called to aid all Iny philosophy, and I had 
conquered prejudices which I once thought insurmount- 
able ” 

Mr. McGregor’s brow contracted slightly. Without 
noticing it, Mr. Lindsay went on : — 

“ I had gained, as I thought, reliable intelligence about 
my boy. Choteau had written me that he had passed 
through St. Louis, en route for the hunting-grounds on the 
Upper Mississippi ; but it was not enough for me to take 
the information as I received it. Conscience, and Clara’s 
pale face, constantly upbraided me, and I said at length to 
myself, ‘ He will keep Madeleine apprised of his where- 
abouts. It is useless for me to try to summon him home. 
I will go to him ; I will make him and the beloved of his 
heart happy ; they shall see that I am no detestable 
tyrant, after all.’ This is what I planned ; and now with 
what tidings am I met !” 

Mr. Lindsay seated himself, and for some minutes looked 
gloomily into the fire, neither he nor his companion break- 
ing the silence. At length he said, suddenly, — 

But you have not told me the name of your intended 
son-in-law.” 

“ His name is Logan — Mark Logan.” 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 581 

Is he of this place 

“ ; he tells me he is by birth an Irishman, but reared 

in Canada.” 

“ Oh, I know the family, I dare say. Fergus Logan, of 
Little York, doubtless, for it is not a common name in 
Canada. This family, however, though Irish, were origi- 
nally Scotch, I think. Excellent people ! And they had 
some fine boys, I remember. One of them was a college 
friend of Malcolm’s, and spent a vacation once with us. 
Your daughter must have seen him there. It could hardly 
have been this one, I suppose, or she would have mentioned 
the acquaintance to you.” 

“ She met him at your house ?” said Mr. McGregor, 
musing. “ The little puss I Was your son’s friend named 
Mark ?” 

“ I think they called him Jack — ^yes, his name was John. 
It might have been John M., for aught I know.” 

“ Whatever his name or lineage, he is a thorough gen- 
tleman, and a man of sterling principles,” said Mr. Mc- 
Gregor, “ and, fastidious as I am, I do not feel that I shall 
be running a risk in giving my daughter to him whenever 
he shall venture to ask for her.” 

Mr. Lindsay again sat and mused until tea was announced. 

When the evening meal was over, Mr. McGregor invited 
his guest to the library, hoping by a cigar and flow of con- 
versation upon subjects unconnected with his own imme- 
diate sources of trouble, to banish something of the gloom 
which Madeleine’s presence seemed only to deepen. 

Too courteous or too indifferent to manifest the slightest 
annoyance at the turn the conversation had previously 
taken, he, as a hospitable host, 

Tried hia legendary store,” 

though to “ gaily press and smile” was beyond his power. 

49 * 


582 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

But the current topics of the day — the welfare of old friends 
— the march of iinprov'enient in his Majesty’s dominions, 
all failed to divert Mr. Lindsay from his one engrossing 
theme. 

“ I told you,” he presently said, “ that I would explain 
the objection which existed, on my part, to the union on 
which our children had set — that is, upon which I had 
reason to believe they had set — their hearts.” 

Mr. McGregor took his cigar from his mouth, and, with- 
out proffering a word, listened with an air of such polite 
attention that his guest found it a little diflScult to proceed. 

“You cannot think, my old friend — the friend of my 
boyhood,” he, said, with a deprecating air, “that an alli- 
ance with your family would, of itself, have met any ob- 
jection on my part ” 

“ No,” said Mr. McGregor, calmly ; “ I cannot say that 
such an idea would have occurred to me.” 

“And I am sure I need not add that, as regards your 
daughter, I feel that any father might be proud to claim 
her for his son.” 

“ I quite agree with you,” was Mr. McGregor’s quiet re- 
sponse. 

“ People did me great injustice when they ascribed my 
opposition to ambition. No sentiments of that nature in- 
fluenced me, — not in the least.” He paused and looked at 
Mr. McGregor, as if hoping that, by a question, he would 
help him out of a position that was becoming somewhat 
awkward. 

,His friend, however, only relighted his cigar, which had 
gone out while he listened, and tranquilly recommenced 
smoking. 

“ I see I may as well make a clean breast of it, even at 
the risk of offending,” said Mr. Lindsay, coming to the 
point. “You have perhaps by this time divined that, if 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 533 

the objection was neither in father nor in daughter, it could 
lie but in one direction— the maternal descent. Forgive 
me, Angus — I make my full confession — I throw myself 
penitently upon your mercy — ^yes, penitently — for the con- 
sequences of my opposition bring dire remorse. I did oppose 
my son’s attachment to the utmost. I could not tolerate 
the thought of that Puan blood in my grandchildren. If 
it had been any other tribe, — Chippewa, Ottawa, Sioux, — 
I persuaded myself that I should not have given it such 
thought — but Puan I I have sometimes looked at your 
sweet Madeleine and felt convinced that it was impossible 
she could have any affinity with that stock.” 

“A most natural conclusion,” remarked Mr. McGregor. 

“ I do not understand you,” said Mr. Lindsay, replying 
more to the manner than to the words. 

“ I mean that your persuasions were correct — that Made- 
leine has no affinity with that stock.” 

“ What do you tell me ? Notametive? Nor your eldest 
daughter, neither ?” 

“Yes, Monica has Winnebago blood.” 

“ Then was her mother not your wife ?” 

“Pardon me — she was.” 

Mr. Lindsay’s countenance fell. “And the dear unhappy 
Madeleine, then, was ” 

“ Madeleine was the daughter of my lawful, wedded 
wife.” 

“ You speak in enigmas. I am aware that you became 
a widower two years ago, while your youngest daughter 
was under my charge; and I know, from what I have 
heard the dear child innocently describe, that her sister 
Monica was the cherished child of this mother, who wore 
the native costume and spoke the native language. How 
am I to understand this? T am quite bewildered!” 

“ Then, if you will listen to a tolerably long story, I will 


584 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

explain to you what seems so incomprehensible. But let 
me first offer you a glass of wine — I may require one my- 
self to carry me with composure through, a narration that 
I have written out, at some length, for the perusal of my 
darling Mallie some day, but which I shall endeavor to 
give you in more succinct form.” 

Both gentlemen drew their chairs closer to the fire, and 
Mr. McGregor, after having placed upon the table a de- 
canter and a couple of glasses, thus began. 


CHAPTER LXXXL 

“ I NEED not go back to the time when you and I 
together left our native hills to seek fortune in the New 
World, — you, to be set forward in your career by the kind 
and generous uncle, whose declared heir you were; I,, es- 
caping from a life of indolent dependence under the roof 
of the relative whose pride was unappeasably wounded, by 
the determination of a McGregor to carve out his fortune, 
not with the sword, as the adventurers of his clan had 
hitherto done, but rather with the peaceful implements 
of commercial or agricultural life. 

“I came to the Colonies, as you will remember, full 
of hope and enthusiasm. The most brilliant pictures of 
what I was to achieve in conquering; an adverse fortune 
and becoming in time a second ‘Man of Uz,’ a territorial 
grandee, of whom other and more aristocratic McGregors 
might hear, and of whose alliance by blood they might 
boast, were dancing before my mental vision. 

“That I chose a different though perhaps less am- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


585 


bitious path was, as you know, owing to the influence kindly 
exerted by your uncle to procure me a place along with 
yourself in the North-Western Fur Company’s establish- 
ment. I cannot say that the fervor of my expectations 
was even then abated. I stood ready to catch at the first 
opening for a more adventurous sphere of duty ; and when 
the opportunity was at length offered me of taking charge 
of certain of the remote interests of the Company, I truly 
believe that never did Spanish or Portuguese navigator 
set forth with more buoyant hopes than cheered me on to 
the land of romance, the magnificent lakes and rivers and 
hunting-grounds of the far Northwest. It was no small 
encouragement to me that the qualities which had enabled 
me to overcome the disadvantages of my early training 
were considered by my superiors to fit me for a position of 
considerable responsibility, — the charge, that is, of some 
their most important outposts. 

‘‘ To fulfil the duties assigned me, it would be necessary, it 
is true, to take up my residence, perhaps for a long season, in 
the heart of the Indian country; but what of that? My 
only sorrow was in sundering the ties that bound me to you, 
my only fast friend. If I was to leave you, it mattered 
little what were to be my surroundings for the time which 
should elapse before we were restored again to each other.” 

“ The greater grief and mortification were on my side,” 
said Mr. Lindsay. I longed so passionately to go with 
you, but, to my chagrin, was pronounced unfit for the ser- 
vice.” 

“Your uncle’s doings, Archie, to keep you near him,” 
said his friend. “ Well, I came to the Indian country. As 
we kept up, during the first two years of my sojourn, such 
correspondence as circumstances would permit, and as I 
constantly and minutely reported to head-quarters all my 
doings, you were kept posted in regard to me during that 


586 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


time, and are therefore aware that my station for a long 
season was upon the Upper Mississippi, within the Winne- 
bago territory, yet bordering upon the Chippewas. A life 
more isolated, more shut out from communion with those 
who could be termed companions, you can hardly imagine, 
unless you fancy one on Robinson Crusoe’s island. Occa- 
sionally, though rarely, I came down at the holiday season 
to this place, or at still longer intervals I made business 
trips to St. Louis. The remainder of the time I attended 
to my men, received the furs and peltries from the traders 
and trappers of more distant regions, superintended the 
transportation of outfits and received the incoming: com- 
modities, or I read and re-read the few books I had, 
wrote, hunted, and played the grand seigneur to the dif- 
ferent tribes, who looked up to me with reverential affec- 
tion. 

“ My progress towards the goal at which I aimed was, 
as I had foreseen, slow ; yet I was, for a time, wholly con- 
tented. I knew that I was successfully fulfilling the duties 
assigned to me, and that not a step of mine in the right 
direction would be lost. 

“Yet, notwithstanding this conviction,” pursued Mr. 
McGregor, “I became, after a time, discontented. My 
lonely life began to be irksome to me ; I felt the want of 
companionship. Parted from you, the only intimate friend of 
my loveless boyhood and youth, I sighed for some one to 
take the part you had done in my joys and my sorrows. 1 
had learned, while in Montreal, to speak the Chippewa lan- 
guage pretty well, but I could not master the Winnebago. 
No white man had ever learned it, except so far as to fur- 
nish himself with the meagre vocabulary of names and 
numbers necessary for trading or expressing their simplest 
wants. I could hardly call the feeling which came over 
me a longing for society, for to that I had been so unac- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


587 


customed that, as you may remember, in Montreal I never 
cared to avail myself of the occasions offered me of min- 
gling with the young and cay. 

“ Whatever was the cause, I was sensible of a yearning, 
desolate, homesick feeling, that at times alniost prostrated 
me. 

“ It was while I was in this state that one of the prin- 
cipal chiefs of the tribe came to bring in his packs of furs, 
and, as a matter of course, to make me a visit of ceremony. 
When we had smoked together, he began commenting on 
my changed and listless manner. Perhaps it was not the 
first lime he had noticed it ; and he may have laid his plans 
accordingly. 

“He told me that I wanted somebody to comfort me; 
that it was not good for man to be alone, — a truth which 
the Eternal Wisdom has written on the hearts of its children 
as well as in the pages of inspiration. 

“ The chief pointed to the animation and cheerfulness of 
his young men, assigning as a reason for it that they had 
each a companion of the gentler sex in the lodge to care 
for and to comfort him. 

“‘Shall I bring Nar-zee-kah* some one to make him 
smile he asked. ‘I have a daughter, the child of her 
mother, who was a little Spanish captive brought away 
long years ago from a settlement on the Missouri. She is 
more fit for the wife of a white man than for one of our 
people,’ he concluded, with a glowing eulogy. Though, 
upon the whole, indifferent in the matter, yet the persist- 
ence of the chief, his description of the charms and merits of 
his daughter, and what he told me of her lineage, awakened 
a feeling of curiosity. To his reiterated inquiry, ‘ Shall I 
bring her V I gave my assent, saying to myself, ‘ If she 

♦ The Yellow-haired — sometimes spoken with another syllable — Nar- 
tshoo-zee-kah. 


688 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


pleases me, I can perhaps teach her to be a companion.* 
I do not remember that the question, whether I should 
please her, at all entered into my speculations. It seemed 
a matter of coui’se that she should be transferred to me, if 
I requested it, the same as if she were a bale of buffalo 
robes, or any other article of merchandise. 

- “ The chief did not koep me long waiting. After the 
briefest possible interval, he again made his appearance, 
bringing with him his daughter and a huge pack of beaver- 
skins as her dowry. The young girl was all that her 
father had vaunted. She was radiant with a beauty par- 
taking largely of that of her mother’s race, yet combined 
with the noble features of her father, who was an uncom- 
monly fine specimen of a tribe of which the men are, as a 
rule, magnificent. Unconsciously I found myself striving 
to please her and to win her regards, using the most 
pleasant phrases I could compass in Chippewa, which 
language she, like most of her tribe who live upon the 
northern borders, spoke passably well. 

“ I succeeded to such a degree that after a few days 
she expressed, somewhat coyly, her willingness to remain 
with me, and she was formally bestowed upon me by her 
father, whom, with a hearty good will, I loaded with pres- 
ents in return for his daughter. 

“ I do not think I wrote you often during those days, 
Archie ?” 

“No,” said Mr. Lindsay; “a year would often elapse 
without bringing a line from you, except your reports -to 
the heads of department. You had perhaps learned that 
I went home to Scotland, and remained for a considerable 
length of time after my uncle’s death, and that I married 
during that period ?” 

“Yes, I heard of it; and it sometimes occurred to me 
that I had better apprise you of my having taken a like step ; 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


589 


but, somehow, when the moment came, I shrank from ac- 
quainting you with the fact. I put off the task, and finally 
omitted it altogether. To proceed. 

“ I found the truth of that which the old man had averred. 
It did indeed add to my contentment to have in my home 
some one to love and cherish me. Espanola was very 
affectionate. Her pretty, graceful ways pleased me. She 
understood the art of being an admirable wife in all par- 
ticulars save 'one, — she was naturally of a jealous temper ; 
and this unhappy trait she took no pains to overcome. Its 
prominence would have avouched her Iberian descent, even 
had there been no tradition to attest the fact. 

“ If I occupied myself in reading, it was ‘ because she 
was felt to be no fit companion for me.’ If I looked over 
my accounts, and, while verifying some calculation, a shade 
of thought or perplexity crossed my brow, it was that ‘ I 
was sending word to my friends how I longed to be with 
them, instead of with her, who was so unlike them.’ I 
would read her stories from my books, from the best Book, 
translating them into Chippewa for her comprehension ; 
then I would encourage her to learn the letters and take 
the first step in pronouncing the English words, that she 
might read for herself. 

“ ‘ Ah, you should not have taken me, wild and igno- 
rant,’ she would exclaim ; ‘ you can love nothing that is not 
like your own people !’ I sometimes thought she was in- 
reality longing to improve her knowledge in the ways of 
civilized life, but perversely refrained because she wished 
me to be content with her as she was. 

“ If there had been a profound sentiment in my affection 
for my poor little wife, I should have been very wretched; 
as it was, I was only vexed and annoyed, as one will be 
with an unreasonable child. I did not, however, relax in 
my efforts to please her. Because she tormented herself 
50 


590 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


with the fancy that I was happiest when away from her, 
I went as seldom as I conscientiously could to visit my 
outposts. As for hunting, or other field exercises, I gave 
them up altogether.” 

“ You indulged her too much, — there was the difficulty,” 
remarked Mr. Lindsay. 

“ Perhaps so,” said his friend. “At length it suggested 
itself to me that a change of abode might vary the cur- 
rent of Espanola’s thoughts, and, as I had for some time 
been contemplating the transfer of my head-quarters to a 
position more central, I proposed to her that we should go 
and live near some of her father’s relatives at the Four 
Lakes villages. 

“ I had already a trading establishment in that neigh- 
borhood, and although this change would necessitate 
longer journeys for me whenever I went to inspect my 
distant posts, yet the inconvenience would be more than 
counterbalanced by the satisfaction of having her within 
visiting-distance of the friends she loved. This change 
of abode we accordingly made. We lived more tran- 
quiljy in our new home, and it was here that our daughter 
Monica was born. 

“ For some months, the pride and delight which Es- 
panola took in her infant seemed to chase away every dark 
shadow. To her great satisfaction, it was a small and 
delicate child, not the stout, overgrown baby which civil- 
ized mothers, to the utter astonishment of their aboriginal 
sisters, exhibit with so much pride and complacency. 

“ I was now permitted to hunt or journey as occa- 
sion required, the little one supplying my place in the 
mother’s affections and attentions. Taking advantage of 
this liberty to make an excursion to the post of one of my 
traders at the Koshkonong, I was there told of a white 
child that had for some time past been held a prisoner 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 591 

among the Pottowattamies of Big Foot Lake. The story 
McCann, my head clerk, had received was, that this child 
had been stolen and brought away from Kentucky some 
years previous by a party of Indians who had been 
South on a visit to the Cherokees, as after-events showed, 
with a hope of inducing them to join in a general league 
of the different tribes to make war upon the . whjtes. 
Robineau, one of my engages, who had been to Big 
Foot’s village to visit the family of his Pottowattamie 
wife, bad brougkt this piece of news to McCann, and he 
had further added that there had been two children cap- 
tured, but one had died, and that the survivor, a girl now 
of some twelve or fourteen years old, had never forgotten 
her home or ceased to mourn for her parents and lost 
brother. 

“I had no trading-posts among the Pottowattamies — 
their domain belonging to the head-quarters at the newly- 
established post of Chicago ; but I commissioned Robineau 
to return with his wife to her people, and to sound Mauch- 
suck, or Big Foot, the. chief, to ascertain whether he would 
release his prisoner, authorizing him to offer whatever 
was reasonable for her ransom. 

“ When McCann next came in, he reported that Robineau 
had been unsuccessful in his mission. Big Foot would 
listen to no proposal of giving up the little girl, who was 
represented by Madame Robineau as more than ever 
pining and unhappy. My next step was to. send McCann 
himself as ambassador, but with no better success. I then 
resolved to go myself and open a negotiation for the ran- 
som of the unfortunate child. 

“ I could not, in conscience, allow a girl of that age to 
remain against her will, with the ultimate fate of be- 
coming the wife, or rather the property, of some young 
red-skin, and doing menial service in his lodge. 


592 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER LXXXII. 

“ I PRESUMED too much on Espanola’s restored amia- 
' bility when I fancied that she would approve the duty I 
was about to undertake. 

“ She gave it as her opinion that I should rather con- 
tent myself with sending again and again, till I had teased 
Mauch-suck into compliance. 

“ ‘And what was I going to do with the little one ? 
Not bring her into our home, to be always at hand for me 
'to talk with in my own language, while she would be 
shut out from any share in the conversation ! No — there 
must be no such arrangement, unless I wished to send her 
away from me altogether — perhaps bite off her nose in 
the first place, as a mark of her disgrace I’ 

“ It was of no use to reason with Espanola ; to encour- 
age her to begin learning English, that she might talk with 
the little girl in that language ; to point out to her that at 
present the child understood only the Pottowattamie dia- 
lect, which is almost identical with the Chippewa, our or- 
dinary medium of communication with each other. 

“As little did it avail to set before her the Christian 
duty of rescuing the captive and striving to make her 
happy. ‘Espanola was no Christian; she did not under- 
stand her duty in that way. She had, herself, been very 
happy in an Indian lodge, when of the same age; what 
should prevent this child from being happy as well ? 
Besides, she was not a prisoner. She was, in fact, a rela- 
tive, adopted into the family of Mauch-suck. Why should 
she be brought away to live among strangers V 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


593 


I had to compromise matters, by engaging*, in case I 
should succeed in ransoming the little girl, to leave her 
for the present with Mrs. McCann, the wife of my trader, 
a very kind and motherly woman, who, with Madame 
Robineau, would, I knew, take the kindest care of their 
little charge. I might, by some means, obtain a clue to 
her family and restore her to them, or, if not, I could 
in process of time doubtless find some eligible home for 
her. 

“ I made the journey to Big Foot’s village, and, by the 
offer of horses and other valuable presents, I accomplished, 
after some difficulty, the object I had in view. I should 
have hesitated at nothing within reach of ray resources, for 
the captive was by no means of the tender age she had 
been represented ; she was old enough to appreciate all the 
horrors of her position. 

“ Sbe had been with these people long enough to have 
forgotten her native tongue ; yet the joyful lighting up of 
her pensive countenance, as I addressed her in the accents 
of her childhood, and her plaintive cry of ‘ mamma, mamma, ’ 
as she held out both hands to me, showed me how deeply 
the memory of her home was engraved. 

I did not thiiik it wise to question her much in the 
presence of her guardians, but I had no difficulty in soon 
learning from her all that she could recall. 

“Willie, the brother who had been captured with her, 
wms, naturally, the prominent image in her memory; next 
came the mother, of whom she retained a tolerably vivid 
recollection. Of her father and another brother her impres- 
sions were more indistinct, but the baby she remembered 
with still surviving tenderness. She preserved a faint 
recollection of her home — a large house, with many trees 
and flowers growing near ; also of many people, dark in 
color like the Indians, with one of whom she and her 

60 * 


594 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


brother were walking when they were seized and borne 
away. 

“This last circumstance and the hardships of her journey 
seemed to have made an indelible impression upon her. 
She and Willie had always, when together, talked of all 
these things, and helped each other to remember, till Willie 
was taken sick and died. By degrees, however, almost all 
the events of her childhood had faded away, leaving but here 
and there a trace, as of a dream. Some things, apparently 
trifling, she remembered, as, for instance, a little boy up- 
setting a candle against her, setting her sleeve on fire and 
burning her shoulder, the mark of which was still visible 
in an unsightly scar. These snatches were told me in the 
Pottowattamie dialect. She could not remember the name 
of her father, but her own she had preserved. It was 
Madie. Willie, who was the elder of the two, had always 
called her so, and the Indian children had adopted it from 
him. 

“ It was singular and interesting to observe, afterwards, 
how the names of different objects, once familiar but long 
forgotten, came back to her, even under the disadvantage 
of Mrs. McCann’s broad Scotch pronunciation. 

“ The story I gleaned from Big Foot was, that the two 
children had been captured by the Kickapoos and kept by 
them some two or three years ; that on a rumor of white 
people having come into the country, below the Kankakee, 
in search of them, fearing to have them found in their 
hands, lest they should be punished for an infraction of the 
treaty of Greenville, they had brought them still farther 
north, and presented them to the chief Mauch-suck. They 
probably knew him to be a man evil and cunning enough 
to hold his own against white man or red. 

“ This second change in their surroundings and language 
had probably helped to obliterate many recollections which, 


MARK LOGAN, THE BO UR GEO IS. 


595 


under other circumstances, would have stood the test of 
the years that had elapsed since their abduction. 

“ The poor child had formed no strong attachment to 
the people with whom she had been placed, neither the 
chief nor his family possessing the qualities which would 
inspire affection. She went with me gladly, and I had 
sobn the satisfaction of seeing her installed in the comfori- 
able little log cabin of Mrs. McCann, at Koshkonong. 

“ As the Pottowattamies had not sufficient geographical 
knowledge to identify the locality whence the children had 
been brought, all that they knew being simply that they 
were taken on the return of a party ‘ from the Cherokee 
country,’ which might mean Kentucky, Tennessee, or even 
Georgia, there seemed little hope of my being able to trace 
out the home of this young girl and restore her to her friends. 
The only step I could think of as likely to be available 
was to write to the commanding officer at the military 
post at Chicago, giving him all the facts in the case, and 
begging him to make them known as extensively as pos- 
sible among his brothei’ officers, many of whom were, of 
course, from the South. Tidings might thus, in time, pos- 
sibly reach the ears of those who had a right to reclaim 
my young protegefe. 

“ It was not many months after 1 had placed Madie 
(for by this name she continued to be known) under the 
care and instruction of Mrs. McCann, who, having re- 
ceived a very tolerable education, was quite fitted for the 
charge, when I was summoned away from my home and 
my family for a time. 

“A new organization of the Company being in contem- 
plation, my presence in Montreal was indispensable. You 
remember this visit, Archibald, and the important change 
in my subsequent position that it led to ?” 

‘‘ Yes, Angus, I remember. Malcolm had at this time 


596 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

become one of us. He seemed to have been sent to fill 
up the gap your absence’ had made; and yet he never 
quite made good your place.’’ 

“ No — that was hardly to be expected. We two had 
loved each other as boys, and I will not pretend to de- 
scribe the joy I felt at the prospect of seeing you again. 

“Espanola wished much to accompany me ; but, for 
various reasons, I did not think this advisable, and my op- 
position to her wishes aggravated, in no small degree, her 
habitual feelings of discontent. 

“‘I was ashamed of her,’ she insisted, ‘and did not 
wish to present her to my friends. I wished to leave her 
and enjoy again the pleasures of my young man’s life, for- 
getful of her and our child. Perhaps, indeed, I meditated 
breaking the bond and staying away altogether! Such 
things were not unheard of.’ 

“ It was in vain that I reminded her that I had no rel- 
atives to present her to, — no one to whose house I had a 
right to take her as a visitor; that the journey would be 
long, and full of hardship and exposure for her and the 
little girl ; that after having made it she would find her- 
self out of place in a boarding-house, among people with 
whom she could communicate only by signs; that my 
time would necessarily have to be given to the Company 
and its concerns, so that she would scarcely see me at all ; 
finally, that I could not afford the expense, the Company 
having made no provision for my bringing my family with 
me. None of my arguments carried conviction to the 
mind of my jealous little wife, and, as I remained firm, I 
was forced lo leave her moody and sullen, — so much so, 
that she would not take leave of me when the time came 
for me to set out, but absented herself until she was 
certain that I and my guide had actually taken our de- 
papture. 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


59t 


“As you will remember, the business that ealled me to 
Montreal was not adjusted in as short a time as we had 
anticipated, its concerns being involved in a system ex- 
tending over all the vast range of interests which were at 
that day tributary to the gigantic parent establishment. 

“I was delayed many months; indeed, at one time I 
was afraid I should have been detained from my family the 
whole winter. 

“ My task was at length finished, and I was able to set 
out on my homeward journey. I had received no letters 
during my absence, — a circumstance I easily explained by 
recalling the uncertainties of communication, the rather 
procrastinating habits of old Bayne, the clerk to whom 
my own letters and messages for my family had, in my 
absence, been addressed, together with the fact that almost 
from the first I had written as if the present month would 
be the last of my detention. 

“ Confiding in Espanola’s passionate affection for me, I 
had never doubted that calm reflection would, long ere 
this, have banished all feelings of discontent, and that she 
would receive me with a cordial and smiling welcome on 
my return. 

“Judge, then, of my astonishment and indignation 
when, on reaching home, late on a snowy November day, 
I learned that my wife was no longer there ; that she had 
quitted my roof for a visit to the Four Lakes, immediately 
after ray departure ; that subsequently she had gone to 
Koshkonong and quietly taken information from the In- 
dian wife of Robineau of all that could be imparted touch- 
ing my visits first to Big Footes village and afterwards to 
Koshkonong, satisfying at the same time her curiosity in 
regard to the personal endowments and qualities of the 
young girl, whom she had not hitherto seen. 

“ ‘ I did not like the gleam of her eye as she looked 


698 


3IARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


under her brow at our Miss Madie/ had been a part of 
McCann’s communication to Bayne. ‘Ye’ll pardon me 
for mentioning it,’ Said the old man, in repeating it to me. 
‘ Of course, I made light of it to McCann, but I thought 
it the proper thing to sit down and write you about it ; 
also, that Madame ’Spafiola had made that visit to her re- 
lations and had not yet returned.’ 

“ That letter I never received. 


CHAPTER LXXXIII. 

“ My first emotions were, as I have said, those of anger 
towards my wife ; for I am not, by nature, of the most 
patient temper imaginable. After a season of reflection, 
however, I began to make excuses for her. 

“ Why should she, after all, have continued at the trading- 
house, all lonely and forlorn except for the companionship 
of her child ? Those by whom she was surrounded under- 
stood too little of her language to hold anything like con- 
nected communication with her. Why should she not have 
gone to solace herself among the friends so near and dear to 
her ? She ought, to be sure, to have remembered that I 
had intrusted much to her charge, and she should have re- 
turned occasionally to look after the interests of her house- 
hold, if nothing more. She had full authority, — she could 
have ordered any one of the engages to drive her in the 
caleche, which I always kept for our little journeys, the 
twenty miles which lay between us and the Four Lakes 
villages, returning for her on any day she might appoint. 

“ Instead of that, she had walked away one morning, with 
Monica, now three years old, by the hand, and later in the 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


599 


day an Indian boy had sauntered into the magasin and 
quietly given the information that ‘ Spa-ro-rah’ had gone 
to Tay-tsho-bee-rah.* It was not pleasant to hear that 
she had afterwards made a journey to Koshkonong for 
the indulgence of her jealous curiosity. 

“But allowances must be. made, I told myself, for one 
so undisciplined, so untrained in the path of duty. I must 
be tolerant and forbearing with her, not tenacious and ex- 
acting. 

“ I had a right, as we say in the old country, to have 
foreseen the peril of linking myself for life to one upon 
whose dutiful observances I could have no hold save con- 
siderations of affection or expediency. While deliberating 
upon the subject before resolving to accept the daughter 
of Ilaunk-shee-kah for a wife, I had recalled that Major P. 
and Dr. M., and others of equal prudence and respectability 
in the upper townships, had chosen similarly, I should 
not, however, have lost sight of the great fact that the part- 
ners of these gentlemen were converted Christians, devout 
women, whose principles of duty were (perhjips all the 
more for their unsophisticated training) the governing 
spring of their conjugal and maternal lives. I, on the 
contrary, had taken Espanola, , a beautiful, affectionate, 
captivating heathen ; I had asked nothing beyond her per- 
sonal attractions and loying ways ; and now I must make 
the best of my bargain. That I should ever be the means 
of winning her to a better faith than her own pagan ideas, 
I had long ceased to hope. God might provide some way 
for her. conversion; till then, I must bear what was in- 
evitable, and strive, as my conscience told me I had ever 
hitherto done, to make her happy ; and I must find my 
own happiness in so doing. 


* The Four Lakes. 


600 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ Having settled the course I ought to pursue, I took 
short time to refresh myself after my tedious and trying 
journey, but, the next day after my return, set out in my 
caliche for the Four Lake^, at one of the villages of 
which an Indian who the week before had called to have 
his musk-rat trap mended, informed Bayne he had seen 
Nar-zCe-kah^s wife and child. 

“ Notwithstanding this assurance, I was haunted through- 
out my drive by a fear which I was destined to find veri- 
fied on my arrival at the Lakes. The villages were all 
deserted, — the inhabitants, even to the veriest old crone, 
having departed to their wintering grounds. I went from 
village to village, entering wigwams or prying into such 
' as were fastened. All were empty and swept, and so 
would remain till the spring. 

“ To scour the country in search of my missing ones 
would, I knew, be worse than useless. It would only 
subject my little Monica to the exposure and hardship 
of a constant change of asylum, as my pursuit became 
known, her mother’s purpose being evidently to evade my 
search. 

“ Espanola’s whole conduct was inexplicable. What 
could she be planning for the future ? Did she suppose I 
would sit down tamely and give her up, or that I would 
allow her to keep my child from me ? Was she trying me 
thus, in order to test the strength of my affection for her, 
perhaps experimenting as to the degree of her ascendency 
over me ? 

“A visit from a chief, a relative of her' mother’s, fur- 
nished me aU opportunity of communicating with her. The 
old man was very reticent, ---knew nothing of the where- 
abouts of my family at present, but could ascertain. I 
made him my ambassador, with injunctions to lose no time 
in bringing me an answer back. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


601 


My message to Espanola was that ‘ I had returned, 
and had sought her at the Four Lakes without success; 
that I longed to see her and my little girl, and that I would 
come with horses, or in a canoe, or in the caleche, accord- 
ing to the nature of the distance that separated us, as soon 
as I could learn where to join her.’ 

“The answer I received, after several days, was that 
‘ Espanola would remain in the lodge of her mother's sister 
till after the sugar-making. That season past, if Nar-zee- 
kah wished to learn why she returned to him no more, he 
could seek his answer on the Upper Mississippi, at the lips 
of Ilaunk-shee-kah, her father.’ 

“ My messenger could, or rather would, tell me nothing 
further, save that my wife and child,^ with her friends, were 
far, far up on the Wisconsin, and that they were going 
still farther into the heaver country, to trap for the winter. 

“ From that decision there was no appeal; I was forced 
to accept it with the best grace I could. 

“ You may imagine the lonely winter I passed. My reso- 
lutions of forbearance more than once gave way, and I 
raged fearfully over the folly and evil temper of my poor 
Espanola. It would have been a recreation to have gone 
from time to time to Koshkonong and occupied myself in 
instructing and amusing the pretty and gentle Madie, as 
we continued to call the young captive ; but of this in- 
dulgence I debarred myself, not doubting that there were 
‘liers in wait,’ ready to report all my doings to one already 
only too disposed to misinterpret them. 

“ Twice only during the winter I visited McCann’s 
trading-house, and had the pleasure of witnessing the pro- 
gress of our ransomed one, under the conscientious teach- 
ing of the faithful Seotswoman. She had learned to read 
and write in an incredibly short time, — a pretty elementary 
book that I had brought her in my valise from Montreal 

51 


602 


MARK LOO AM, THE BOURGEOIS. 


seeming too little advanced for her, while to the truths of 
the Christian religion her heart, to Mrs. McCann’s great 
joy, seemed to open instinctively. She would have been 
contented and happy, but for her longing to see again the 
home of her childhood. I was obliged on each occasion 
of my visit to disappoint her by telling her I had discov- 
ered no traces of her parents or their place of abode, a sub- 
ject upon which she meditated and discoursed more and 
more as time rolled on. 

“ At as early a season as possible in the spring, I re- 
paired to the village of Haunk-shee-kah on the Upper Mis- 
sissippi. I was far from understanding the message of 
Espanola in the light of a menace ; I looked upon it as 
simply promising an explanation. 

There was no want of respect or cordiality in the man- 
ner of Haunk-shee-kah when we met. He informed me 
that his daughter had absented herself from my home, and 
would continue to do so, because she was not happy as my 
wife, and because she knew well that I would be secretly 
glad she had left me. That it was a mistake in her having 
listened to him and consented to come and live with me 
at all ; that I was a white man, and should have a white 
wife, for I could never make an Indian of myself, as the 
French traders found no difficulty in doing. Finally, that 
as she was not fitted for my wife, so neither was the regu- 
lar, restricted life under the tie she had so inconsiderately 
formed, one to which she could accustom herself. That 
her father, who had made the match, could set us both free 
again, and she had come to pray him to do so, and to 
restore her to her unrestrained and favorite mode of life 
again. Of course, as the matter assumed this serious 
aspect, and the possibility of my losing my petted com- 
panion forced itself upon me, I was disposed to do battle 
for my rights. I had supposed that she was merely trying 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


603 


my patience — punishing me, perhaps, for refusing her re- 
quest to be taken to Montreal; but this looked terribly 
like earnest. 

“ ‘ Have I not been a tender and loving husband to your 
daughter V I asked. 

“ ‘ Oh, yes, my daughter does not complain. She says 
Nar-tshoo-zee-kah is too good; he should have a wife of his 
own color, his own language, his own religion, — one that 
he can truly love.’ 

“ ‘ And what will all her tribe say,’ I exclaimed, trying 
a new weapon, ‘ if your daughter persists in this separa- 
tion ? Why, that Nar-zee-kah has hated the daughter of 
Haunk-shee-kah and has driven her from him.’ 

“ ‘No, for all know that Espanola left of, her own ac- 
cord, while Nar-zee-kah was gone to the Wau-bun.’* 

“ ‘ And is Espanola,’ I asked, ‘ prepared to give up her 
little daughter, or does she propose to rob me, of my child 
also V 

“ ‘ Espanola has talked with Amable, the Wauk-hoa-pee- 
nee,f who lives among us. He knows the laws of the May- 
ee-hat-tee-rah. J He tells her that her marriage is no mar- 
riage to Nar-zee-kah, — that it means no more than the song 
of a buzzing insect.’ 

“‘If that is all, I can strengthen the tie more fully ac- 
cording to our laws. *»Let Espanola come with me, and we 
will soon repair whatever is deficient in the form of our 
marriage.’ 

“ ‘ No — Espanola will not go — she is content as it is.’ 

“ ‘ However,’ said I, waxing wroth, ‘ my child is my own. 
Eer at least I can claim— the laws will protect my rights 
there.’ 

“ ‘ The Wauk-hoa-pee-nee says no. He says Nar-zee-kah 


* Tke East — the dawn. 


I Erencliman. 


t Tho white man. 


604 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


was not married according to his country’s fashions, there- 
fore he does not own the child. She belongs to her 
mother.’ 

“ I did not know what was the law upon this point, but 
it was evident that they had been taking information — 
that the matter had been discussed in all its bearings — that 
a settled plan had been marked out, and that upon it my 
aboriginal relatives had intrenched themselves. 

“ ‘ And is your daughter,’ I cried, ‘ really resolved to do 
such wrong to our child as to deprive her of her father’s 
protection, of the advantages of education, of everything, 
in short, that she ought to be ambitious of securing for 
her V 

“ ' Espanola regards her child’s happiness. She sees that 
she will be far better off among our people, surrounded by 
many to love her, and in the full enjoyment of all the good 
gifts that the Great Spirit bestows upon his children. 
What can civilization give, that will be a compensation for 
slavery ? Espanola has tried it ; her child, she says, shall 
never try it.’ 


CHAPTER LXXXIY. 

“It was of no avail to plead, to argue, or to threaten. 
Having tried my powers at all three, without producing the 
slightest impression, my next step was to invoke the aid 
of the law. I came with that intent to the prairie, and 
here I soon learned that Amable, the misnamed French- 
man, who had so busied himself to widen the gulf of sepa- 
ration between my wife and myself, was correct as to the 
extent of my rights. I could claim my child no more than 
I could her mother. If the latter declared herself to be no 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


605 


longer my wife, there was no appeal except to the chief, 
her father. He alone who had formed the tie could affirm 
or disannul it. Such was the law of the red man, and to 
it alone were they amenable. 

“As for the child, she belonged to her mother alone. 
By the laws under which I professed to live, I could have 
no claim to her — the mother was at perfect liberty to with- 
hold her and set me at defiance. There was nothing left 
for me but to return to my home wifeless and childless. 

“ I was the more incensed and grieved at this disruption 
of all my domestic ties, that I had been perfectly loyal in 
my affection for Espanola. Never for a moment had I 
contemplated the severance of the bond that united us. I 
had endeavored to add to her happiness by opening to her 
new sources of improvement and rational enjoyment ; fail- 
ing in that, I had done whatever was in my power to secure 
to her such indulgences as were to her taste. My love for 
her, it is true, had not been a spiritual devotion, but it had 
been of the type to which she was accustomed, and which 
alone she could appreciate — a sort of fondness which made 
me most contented when she was near me, and ever ready 
to be amused by her tricks and pretty ways. 

“ She had been frequently perverse, but I had never 
punished her perversity by threatening to bring another 
wife into the lodge ; had I done so, and had I even carried 
out my threat, I believe she would have hailed it with 
satisfaction, as a conformity with the usages of her people 
— provided, always, that the new favorite was one of her 
own race. It was the idea that my heart was still clinging 
to my own people and their usages, that had turned her 
tenderness into indifference and, as it would now seem, 
into absolute dislike. 

“ I accepted, as patiently as I could, my divorce, for such; 
to all intents and purposes, it was, and for the months that 
51 * 


606 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


followed I applied myself to such occupations as would 
best help me to bear the loneliness so unexpectedly and 
undeservedly made my lot. 

“ It would have seemed but natural that I should have 
turned to one obvious source of consolation ; but I refrained. 
I waited a year and a day, as if death itself had snapped 
the tie which had bound me, before making my first visit 
to Koshkonong. After that I went very frequently. I 
cannot enlarge upon this part of my story,’’ said Mr. Mc- 
Gregor. He rose, and, as well as his lameness would per- 
mit, took two or three turns up and down the apartment, 
then poured himself a glass of wine, signing to his friend 
to do the same. 

“Forgive me, Archie,” be said, “if I seem a little un- 
hinged. I cannot describe my Madie to you as the lapse of 
mo.nths during which I had not seen her had transformed 
her. If you look at my Mallie you will see a faint picture 
of what her mother was. In beauty she is by no means 
her equal ; in childlike sweetness, in archness, in clinging 
tenderness of manner, there is more of a resemblance. 

“ How she came to love me as she did, was a marvel to 
me. I suppose her grateful heart taught her to value me 
as her deliverer from a fate worse than death, to which was 
added the sympathy she felt for the wrongs I had suffered 
in the desertion of Espanola and her abduction of my child ; 
and, finally, my own passionate devotion awoke an equally 
fervent sentiment in return. She did not for a moment 
hesitate when I a^ked.her to become my wife. She seemed, 
on the contrary, glad that she could devote herself to me 
— that, her life would be spent in ministering to my happi- 
ness. When I proposed that we should go on horseback 
to Chicago, where there was a justice of the peace, vyho 
could unite us according to the forms of the English 
Church, she made no objection. Mrs. McCann accom- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 607 

panied us on our journey, which was made in great comfort 
notwithstanding the lateness of the season. Our short so- 
journ at that post gave me an opportunity of prosecuting 
further inquiries to ascertain if any officer had heard of kid- 
napped children whose circumstances seemed to tally with 
those of ray bride ; but we found, to our disappointment, 
that no such instance had come to the knowledge of any 
inmate of the garrison or any member of the corps belonging 
to the Fur Company. 

“ The two years that followed were the halcyon days of 
my life. I took up my abode permanently at Koshko- 
nong, intending, as I was now placed in a positibn where 
my fortune was accumulating as rapidly as I could expect, 
that we should in time make our head-quarters in some 
one of the more important cities either of Canada or the 
States, my preference being, upon the whole, in favor of 
the latter. 

“ We lived in perfect seclusion, my Madie devoting her- 
self to the acquisition of all that I could teach her ; her 
great ambition being to overcome the disadvantages of her 
captive life, in order, as she would say, to reflect no dis- 
grace on the one who had chosen her for a friend and 
companion. In the year following our marriage our Made- 
leine was given to us, and then was the cup of our hap- 
piness indeed full. 

“ But a few more months had elapsed, when a new source 
of trouble opened for our disturbance. There were growl- 
ings and mutterings all along our Indian horizon. 

‘‘Doubtless the chiefs of the different tribes were kept 
better informed than I was, of the misunderstanding and 
difficulties fomenting between the two great nations, whose 
interest it would be each to secure these tribes for allies 
in case of a serious collision. It was this knowledge, prob- 
ably, which emboldened them to various acts of mischief, 


60.8 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


almost amounting to hostility, towards the peaceful settlers 
on the frontier. 

“ From my remote and isolated position, I was neces- 
sarily but little posted in the details of public affairs ; con- 
sequently, I for a long time regarded the symptoms of 
discontent among the savages, to which I could not shut 
my eyes, as a manifestation of their continued sense of 
injury at the loss of their splendid country north of the 
Ohio River by the compulsory Treaty, as they termed it, 
which succeeded the wars of Ilarmar and Wayne. 1 knew 
that this grief had been burning inwardly, like a volcano, 
ever since, and I was not altogether unprepared for an 
explosion. 

“ When the news reached me of the battle of Tippe- 
canoe, I was certain there was a spirit at work that would 
need chastising, and I could not help feeling some mis- 
givings about what was yet to come. I began more seri- 
ously to make my arrangements for a change in my mode 
of life ; and the favorite topic of conversation between 
my Madie and myself was our future, in which she was 
to enjoy all of which her peculiarly hard fate had hitherto 
deprived her. 

“ Things were in this state, when all former causes of 
solicitude were lost sight of in a new source of interest. 
Only a few weeks after we had learned the defeat of Te- 
cumseh, a letter from the commanding officer at Chicago 
was brought me by a Pottowattamie messenger. It was 
to the effect that a captain of one of the companies at that 
post, just returned from furlough, had met, at Pittsburg, 
an officer cf Harrison’s command, and that, in speaking of 
the prowess exhibited by the Kentucky volunteers in the 
late battle, he had remarked, ‘ There was one who fought 
beyond all the dare-devils I ever saw ; a fellow named 
Hartstone, who told me he had had a brother and sister 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


609 


carried off by the Indians, many years ago, and that he 
felt he had a mission from Heaven to take the life of 
every red-skin who fell in his way.’ The Chicago officer 
then mentioned to his new acquaintance the fact of two 
white children having been found among the Pottowat- 
tamies at Big Foot Lake, the death of the boy, and the 
marriage of the girl to a trader at Koshkonong. 

“ The militia officer, betng greatly interested, promptly 
undertook to find out the home of his Kentucky comrade 
and to furnish him with this clue to one who might prove 
to be his missing sister. 

“ Our rejoicing over this prospect was without bounds. 
‘Oh, I shall see my mother again!’ Such was the, bur- 
den of my Madie’s song. ‘ But they cannot take me 
away from you, Angus ? They have no power to. do that V 
was ever the question that followed ; and constantly was 
I obliged to reassure her, as well as to moderate her trans- 
ports by setting before her the possibility of a disappoint- 
ment. 

“ Late in the following spring, a traveller, guided from 
Chicago by the Sau-ga-nash, a half-breed chief, jvho had, 
at the instance of the commandant at Chicago, consented 
to accompany him, arrived at our dwelling. It was Cap- 
' tain Ilartstone, in search of his missing sister. 

! “ There were too many particulars by which the lost 

' one could be identified, to leave any room for doubt. The 
I names of Madie and Willie were of themselves sufficient;; 
the burn upon the shoulder was remembered perfectly by 
Captain Hartstone as haying been the work of a careless 
little colored boy who was playing with the children. 

: The captain was some five years older than his sister, 

' Willie having been intermediate between them. There 
were various little incidents which the brother recalled, 
and which seemed to draw with magnetic power from 


610 MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

Madie’s slumbering memory other links of a chain which 
furnished corroboration beyond dispute, even had not the 
strong personal likeness been all-sufficient. 

“We received the gallant captain as a brother, and 
Madie took him to her heart, almost as if they had never 
been separated. It was so delightful to the young man 
to find in his sister, not the tanned, untutored, half-savage 
being he had expected to see, but a graceful, refined, well- 
informed, almost an accomplished young woman, that he 
hardly could cease from commenting upon the subject. 
Of course, it soon became a question of restoring her for 
a time to her mother. The journey of the brother had 
been made by the Ohio River to St. Louis, thence, with 
an escort furnished by the Indian Superintendent at that 
place, in a large bark canoe up the Illinois and Des Plaines 
Rivers to Chicago. 

“ There was no obstacle to their returning by the same 
route. Madie would not jisten to any plan of leaving her 
little one behind, particularly as there was every appli- 
ance for making the journey in perfect comfort. The only 
drawback was, that I should not be able to accompany 
them farther than to Chicago. The interests confided to 
my keeping required my watchful supervision in these dis- 
turbed times but I promised to use all diligence in carry- 
ing out an arrangement I had for some time contemplated, 
— the transferring my whole establishment to Prairie du 
Chien, with the exception of a moderate stock, to be fre- 
quently renewed, under McCann and Robineau. That 
the Indians were beginning, as the phrase is, ‘ to show 
their teeth, Hhere was no manner of doubt; and it be- 
hooved us to be prepared for it. I was glad, upon the 
whole, that my darlings were to be out of the country 
for the present, knowing it would be no difficult matter 
for me, after a few weeks, to slip down the Mississippi 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


611 


from the Prairie to rejoin them in Kentucky, and that 
we could then decide what our future course of life should 
be. 

'' It was arranged that I should escort the party as far 
as Chicago, carrying my little Mallie before me upon the 
saddle, and that the young sister of my blacksmith should 
accompany them in the capacity of child’s nurse. As the 
water was in a good stage at this season, the travellers 
could easily pass in their canoe from the South Branch 
through the Rigolet to the Des Plaines, and thus all their 
journey from the time of their leaving Fort Dearborn 
would be made in comparative comfort. 

“We were within a day of the time appointed for our 
departure, when, in the afternoon, as I was passing through 
my stable-yard, I saw a person whom I at once recog- 
nized slink suddenly behind one of the log buildings which 
formed the inclosure of that part of the establishment. 
Amable Laupien ! — the friend and oounsellor of Espanola 
and her family I What wjts he doing on my premises ? 
Had he not worked me mischief enough already?: 

“I stepped forward as quickly as possible; but he had 
disappeared. I looked into the different buildings, then 
made an errand into Robineau’s cabin, but without finding 
the one I sought. Madame Robineau was alone, engaged 
in the manufacture of a small mat for her floor. 

“ ‘ Where is Laupien, and what does he want here V I 
asked. 

“ ‘ Choween ke-ken-don,’* was the curt answer. 

“ ‘ I do not wish to come across him. You may tell 
him so for me,’ I said, in Chippewa. The woman made 
no reply. 

“ Young Hartstone had gone up the lake, fishing, with 


* I don’t know. 


612 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Robineau and a Winnebago, most characteristically named 
Wau-kaun-kah, or the Snake, the greater part of whose 
time had been of late spent in lounging around the 
magasin, or gliding away and returning, none knew why 
or wherefore. It was not the first excursion that the three 
had made together, from which I drew the conclusion that 
my ydung relative must be fond of the sport, since for the 
sake of enjoying it he could tolerate the society of one of 
the hated race. 

“ This day they returned later than usual, and I thought 
Hartstone’s brow looked somewhat clouded. It was a i 
circumstance to be remarked, he being usually so gay and 
light-hearted. When he came into the house he walked ' 
quietly to his sister’s apartment, very soon after which I 
saw them, her arm linked in his, strolling along the banks i 
of the lake, and finally losing themselves from view behind ! 
a thicket at no great distance. It was quite dark when 
the two returned from their walk, and our evening meal | 
’^as at once placed upon the table. Both Ilartstone and | 
bis sister were taciturn, and I thought Madie had been i 
crying; but that had been no unusual thing with her 
during the last two or three days ; tears had sprung to her ' 
eyes every time our parting had been alluded to. 

“ The expression on the brow of Tom, as we were now 
accustomed to call my brother-in-law, was, however, so i 
thoughtful, and at times so stern, as quite to startle me. i 
At a sign from him, Madie left the room as soon as the j 
meal was finished, and he then abruptly plunged into his i 
subject. I 

“ ‘ I have been telling my sister,’ he said, ‘that I do not I 
think it by any means a good plan to undertake to carry i 
the Tittle girl with us to Kentucky.’ ' ! 

“ ‘ I have been afraid from the first,’ I replied, ‘ that the 
journey would be too much for a child of that age; but : 


MARK LOO AM, THK BOURGEOIS. 613 

Madeleine’s heart seems so set on showing the baby to her 
mother.’ 

‘‘‘It must be unset, then,’ he said, harshly, ‘that is’ — 
correcting himself, and smoothing his speech, ‘ we must 
try to persuade her to leave the child behind.’ 

“ I was amazed at the manner, still more than at the 
matter of his remark. 

“ ‘ Has anything occurred to give this idea particular 
force V I asked. ‘ As we had settled it, it seemed that the 
journey, upon the whole, would be made without undue 
fatigue. You have appeared to concur in our plans, and, 
although it would be my preference to have my little one 
remain with me while her mother is absent, I confess I 
do not like to disappoint your sister.’ 

‘“The question is not what we like, but what has got 
to be done,’ he said, in his former abrupt tone. 

“ ‘ Hoes Madie agree to it V 

“ ‘Of course not; but she will if you insist on keeping 
the child.’ 

“ ‘ I cannot do that; but, if you ai^ appreheUSive of being 
annoyed, I can persuade my wife to give up her .visit to 
her mother for two or three months, until I have, carefully 
turned over all the property in my hands belonging to the 
Company, and am a free man. After that I can take her 
myself to Kentucky.’ 

“ He sprang up, then, as if by a sudden effort, sat down 
again, and conipo^ed hiS features, though he could not 
quite subdue the flush that had spread over them. 

“ ‘ My reasons are quite suflBcient,’ he said, becoming, as 
it seemed t'o me, a little plausible in his manner. ‘ We all 
know that theTndians are thoroughly unsettled all through 
the country.’ 

“ ‘ I had hoped that the lesson you gave them last Novem- 
ber had had the effect of settling them,’ was my reply. 

52 


614 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


“ ‘ Yes,’ he went on, ‘but we never know where to find 
them, — what circumstances may embolden them to another 
attempt. If I have my sister alone, I can carry her through 
the country like a streak of lightning. I have engaged 
those who will act as both guides and scouts. I think you 
must see how Important it is, just at this juncture, that we 
should be as free and unincumbered as possible, — that we 
should have nothing to embarrass us, under whatever cir- 
cumstances may arise.’ 

“‘It is as you say. It would be my own proposition, but 
for Madie’s sake. However, I shall feel emboldened to go 
for her all the sooner, if her visit has been a separation 
from her child as well as from me.’ 

“ There was no occasion for Hartstone’s setting his teeth 
together, as he certainly did at this remark of mine. I' 
could not pretend to comprehend him ; but, having once 
heard a Kentuckian, whom I came across, describe his 
race as ‘ half horse, half alligator, with a touch of the 
snapping-turtle,’ I took it for granted that these demon- 
strations were in accordance with the young man’s idio- 
syncrasy. 


CHAPTER LXXXY. 

“ I wouLiI not have had Madie suspect that her brother 
was seeking to rid himself of the trouble of our little dar- 
ling ; though that was the only interpretation I could give 
his strange conduct. 

“ I contented myself with setting before her the hazards 
and exposure of the journey for one so young ; and, as 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


615 


Ler brother did not hesitate to do the same in still stronger 
terms, she yielded, with the same remark that I had used, — 
‘ You will come for me, then, all the sooner, seeing that I 
am parted from both my darlings. Do not let it be more 
than two months, remember ; and perhaps we can persuade 
mamma to return with us for a visit.’ 

“ Though Nannie McKee would not now be needed in 
the capacity of a nurse, I proposed that she should accom- 
pany my wife, to wait upon her and care for her. There 
was again the frown from Hartstone, and a hasty — 

“ ‘ By no means, — we have servants for my sister in her 
own home.’ 

“ ‘ Her own former home,’ I quietly corrected, with a 
smile at Madie, who glanced at her brother as if hesitating 
to return it. 

“ I accompanied them to Chicago, and took leave of my 
wife, with oft-repeated promises on her part of writing me 
immediately on her arrival in St. Louis, giving her letters in 
charge to a friend whose address I furnished her, and who 
would be sure to forward them to me by the first oppor- 
tunity ; for, you will remember, there were no regular mails 
or postal arrangements in those days. 

“ It would take but six days, I knew, for their canoe to 
reach St. Louis ; then, allowing the time necessary for a 
flat- or keel-boat to ascend the Mississippi in the present 
stage of water, I ought to receive tidings of the travellers 
in less than a month. I had calculated the time care- 
fully ; and at the expiration of a sufficient period I sent an 
express to the Prairie. He returned with none but business 
letters, several of which were of a date later than that at 
which Hartstone and his sister should have been in St. 
Louis. Boats had been up in greater numbers than usual, 
both for the Prairie and for trading-posts above ; therefore 
there had been no lack of opportunities for sending letters, 


616 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


had such been left or forwarded according to the directions 
I had furnished. 

“ Too impatient to remain quietly waiting, I next came 
myself to this place. Still the same disappointment. There 
were letters from various friends and correspondents, but 
not a line from Madie or from Hartstone. Though greatly 
alarmed and distressed, I yet for a while strove to comfort 
myself with the belief that Madie, in her impatience to 
reach her mother, had persuaded her brother not to stop 
at St. Louis, but to seize the first chance of transferring 
themselves from the canoe to some boat ascending the 
Ohio. In that way her letters, being confided to an un- 
faithful 'messenger, might have been lost. I proceeded 
with all possible expedition in my task of getting the prop- 
erty under my charge in such a position that I could safely 
leave my station, resolving to set out, at an earlier period 
than I had proposed, for Kentucky, to brjng my darling 
back to her home. With the best exertions I could use, 
several weeks were consumed before this was quite accom- 
plished. I had just returned to Koshkonong, after having 
installed Mr. and Mrs. McCann in a comfortable home 
at this place, where alone I should have felt safe to leave 
my little girl, when the most overwhelming tidings burst 
upon me. 

“A messenger arrived from Big Foot Lake, from the 
family of Madame Robineau, to notify her that the prin- 
cipal men of their band had been summoned to Chicago ; 
that war had been declared between the United States and 
Great Britain ; that the commanding oflQcer at Fort Dear- 
born had received orders to march away somewhere East, 
but that before he went he was to talk with the Indians 
and make them valuable presents. How I thanked God 
that I had got my child safely away from a region of such 
danger 1 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


61 t 


To pack up the rest of our belongings, and transport 
as many of them to the boats waiting for them in the^Wis- 
consin as our pack-horses could carry, was the work of a 
very short time. 

“ The chiefs of the villages near saw nothing to object 
to in this. We were supposed to belong to their Great 
Father and ally the King of Great Britain, whose sway 
was considered to extend over the whole Northwest. It 
was, in their eyes, but the part of wisdom to keep our 
goods and chattels out of the way of marauders, whether 
Neechees* or Chee-mo-ko-mon.f 

“ My engages, as you may believe, worked in double- 
quick time when the news of the massacre of the whites 
at Chicago by the Pottowattamies, who had engaged to 
protect them in their march to Fort Wayne, was added 
to the first distressing tidings. However closely allied 
to the surrounding tribes by the ties of blood or friend- 
ship, there were few who did not prefer the security of 
the settlement, where they could be ‘ forted’ — as the 
frontiersmen express it — in case of danger ; and all were 
anxtous to be off. 

“ The village of La Prairie at that time consisted of not 
more than forty or fifty families. Kindly, warm-hearted 
people they were, who gave me a cordial welcome; but a 
new obstacle to the carrying out of my plans at once pre- 
sented itself. 

“The news of the declaration of hostilities had already 
reached the hahitans, by boats from St. Louis ; by the 
way of the Wisconsin they had also learned that the island 
of Mackinac had fallen into the hands of the British. 

“ Every citizen of thh place belonged, in feeling and by 
tradition, to Canada; that is, to the British Government. 


* Indians. 


52 * 


f Americans. 


618 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


There was hardly an American among them. No language 
was spoken save French and Indian ; no customs were ob- 
served but those of La Marriale, as handed down through 
successive generations. I found the leading men already 
talking of organizing and marching to offer their services 
to the British commander at Mackinac, — an indication of 
energy and patriotism quite amazing in a people ordinarily 
so quiet and unenterprising. Had they acted as well as 
talked, it would have been more amazing still. 

“ I soon found my movements scrutinized. I had made 
no secret of my intention to proceed to St. Louis ; but I 
was met with the question, — 

“ ‘ How can you, a British subject, venture among the 
enemy ? If you are a Yankee, oh, very well — only tell us 
so. Here we are all brothers — we know what we mean 
to do. At all events, we will take care not to be butchered, 
like those poor people at Chicago.’ 

“ These things would be said pleasantly, yet in full 
earnest, I was under surveillance, as I soon found; I 
was not to be permitted to leave. 

“ ‘ No, no,’ one would say, laughing ; ‘ no spies to carry 
reports ’ 

“ ‘But, my friend,’ I would say, ‘consider my position. 
My business is of the most pressing character. I propose 
to go and return immediately, without a week’s unneces- 
sary delay.’ 

“ ‘ Eh bien 1 and what the better would you be for 
your journey ? You arrive at Saint Louizon — the authori- 
ties ask you, “Are you an American citizen?” If you 
say yes, it will be, “ Go report yourself, then, at head- 
quarters, and you will be furnished with arms and men to 
go back and take care of those gentlemen who did not ad- 
vise themselves to come with you and offer their services.” 
If, on the contrary, you say, “ I am no citizen — I am come 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


619 


attending a little to my own business,” what will the 
answer be ? Halloo I send me a file of men to take charge 
of this traveller ! Clap him in jail or in the guard-house I 
Travelling John Bulls are not very Safe cattle in these 
times.” ’ 

“ I could not be blind to the force of these arguments. 
I was hemmed in between two fires. A thousand deaths 
were contained in what I suffered as the long months went 
on, and I thought of my beloved wife, whom I could neither 
see nor hear from — of whose very existence, in fact, I could 
not feel assured.” " 

“ You seem not to have pleaded your wish to rejoin your 
wdfe as an excuse for your journey down the Mississippi,” 
said Mr. Lindsay. 

“ No ; there were none with whom I was on sufficiently 
intimate terms to be giving them my family history. I 
took it for granted that the traders generally knew of my 
marriage with Espanola; whether they knew of its disso- 
lution was a question. It was not an agreeable subject 
in my thoughts ; still less would it have been in discussion 
with comparative strangers. I am naturally a little reti- 
cent, except with dear friends ; and I had said to myself, 
‘ When I get my Madie back again, I can present her to 
my circle of acquaintance here, and then will be the time 
to explain all the circumstances of the past.’ I do* not re- 
member to have heard any speculations hazarded as to the 
little girl who called Mrs. McCann ‘Mamma Bessy.’ I 
fancy the simple people cared very little whom she actually 
belonged to. 

It was a full year before I succeeded, by means of 
heavy bribes, in inducing a half-breed, to whom I had done 
an important service, to obtain for me by stealth a canoe 
and a couple of Saukie guides to take me down the long, 
desolate course of the Mississippi to St. Louis. It was a 


620 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


perilous undertaking; but Letellier, my confederate, an- 
swered for the fidelity of his cousins whom he had pressed 
into my service, and they fulfilled scrupulously their part 
of the compact. All my affairs, and, chief of all, the wel- 
fare of my little Mallie, I left in the hands of the excellent 
McCann and his wife. 

‘‘ On my arrival at St. Louis I went straight to the 
house of my friend Crawford, to ask for news. Before 
replying to one of his questions, I tore open a letter 
which he handed me, saying that it had reached him a 
few weeks previous, but that the cessation of intercourse 
with the settlements above had prevented him from for- 
warding it.” 

Mr. McGregor paused a moment, then rose and unlocked 
a cabinet, from a drawer of which he drew forth a packet 
tied with a black ribbon. He selected a folded paper, some- 
what discolored by time, though carefully preserved in a 
soft and thin covering which enfolded it. 

“No eyes but mine have ever perused these lines since 
they reached me,” he said ; “ but I cannot trust myself to 
repeat them to you.” 

Mr. Lindsay read, as follows 

“ My brother long ago gave me a letter from you, which 
my father was never, willing I should answer till now. 
But, Angus, I would have done it before, only I knew, that 
it could not be sent without their permission. Oh, Angus, 
you know — don’t you? — that I would have gone every step 
of the way on foot to tell you I was living, even if I had 
bad to turn right back a^ain ; but in these dreadful times 
what could I do ? It has been worse to me to think of 
your sorrow than of my own. I have promised my father 
to remember what is my duty in writing to you, if I can, 
— oh, if I can ! but it is so hard ! 

“ They tell me that I do not belong to you, — that I never 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


621 


was lawfully yours, — that our darling child is — how can 
I write it ? Oh, I know you believed that you had a 
right to marry me ; I know your noble and brave heart. 
You would never, never do wrong, wilfully, to any human 
being. I tell them so, and I am quite sure mamma believes 
me. I cannot understand it, but papa says we have broken 
God’s law and lived in sin ; and Tom — oh, I cannot tell 
you how hardly Tom expressed himself before he went 
away to the war. He almost broke my heart, — no, not 
broke it ; you must not think that ; 

“ I try to feel reconciled to God’s decrees. He knows 
that we never meant wrong ; but it would be sinful in us, 
papa says, to meet again. Ob, Angus, my best, best 
friend, we must strive not to be rebellious. It is so hard 
to give up my precious baby I It was Tom who insisted 
on that, and made papa promise that it should be so ; but 
I can bear it for your sake, for I am leaving her to you. 
She will be a comfort to you, and you will not consider her 
a disgrace. . 

“ They tell me it is a sin even to wish to see you again ; 
but how can I help it ? how can I help it? Angus, try to 
be comforted. You know, don’t you, that I shall pray for 
you all the tirue, and for that dear, dear child ? There 
will come a day when we shall be reunited in a better 
world, where we shall know what is right. . Sometimes 
it seems to me that papa cannot be quite right;, but then 
he reads to me from the Bible, to show me how wrong 
we have been, and my mind becomes clouded, so that I 
do not see clearly which is right and which is wrong. I 
have promised him not to write as if . I belonged .to 
you any more, but to say good-by ; but not forever, — oh, 
Angus, not forever I Have my poor darling 'brought 
up religiously, if you can. May God spare her any such 
troubles as — - 


622 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ Give my dear love to Mr. and Mrs. McCann. God bless 
you I God bless you I God bless you I 

“ Madie. 

« P.S.— If you should ever receive this and answer it, I 
do not suppose they will let me have your letter.” 


CHAPTER LXXXYI. 

Mr. Lindsay, with deep emotion, perused this out- 
pouring of a breaking heart. He wiped away the tears 
which had gathered in his eyes, and, folding the paper with 
reverential tenderness, exclaimed, — 

“ Poor lamb I poor lamb I What could you do, Angus ? 
Were you able to hasten to her 

“ Yes, there was no obstacle in my way. My friend was 
an influential citizen, and through his interposition I suc- 
ceeded in taking passage in the first boat ascending the 
Ohio. I had lost no time in establishing my citizenship, 
and, there being fortunately just then no call for more 
militia than were already in the field, I was able with 
scarcely any delay to set off for the little river town near 
which my father-in-law resided. 

“ Distracted with fear and uncertainty, I passed the time 
of my weary voyage in poring over Madie’s letter, ques- 
tioning with myself what it could all mean, what falsehoods 
my darling had been told, what object her family could 
have had in thus .torturing and endeavoring to disgrace her. 

“ I had not withheld from Tom the slightest particular 
of my history, and he had not offered a suggestion im- 
pugning the validity of ray marriage with his sister. 

“ Had he been playing the hypocrite all the time ? And 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


623 


had it been a settled plan with him from the first to dis- 
embarrass her of her child and then separate her from me 
altogether ? Some dreadful influence had been brought to 
bear upon my poor girl. Doubts and suspicions had been 
instilled ; but they had not been able to shake her faith in 
me ; there was comfort in that ! 

“ At length I reached her father’s house. It was a spa- 
cious mansion, evidently the abode of wealth and comfort. 
A colored servant opened the door t6 me, and my almost 
breathless inquiry for Mrs. McGregor was met by a look 
of wonder, and the answer, ‘ No such lady here, sir, — 
nobody but Missis and Miss Madie.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, Miss Madie. Tell her Mr. McGregor — no, stay ; 

take her this card ; she will come ’ 

“ ‘ Reckon not, sir. Miss Madie’s too sick, I reckon ’ 

‘‘ I did not wait to hear any more. I flew past him and 
bounded up the stairs towards which he was looking. I 
cared little whose privacy I intruded on, so I could but 
get sight and speech of my darling. A murmur of voices 
guided me to a half-open door. I strove to compose my- 
self, that I might not, by entering too abruptly, startle her ; 
and, as quietly as I could, I, after a gentle knock, presented 
myself. Her cry of joy was all that I heard, — her out- 
stretched arms, as she lay on her couch, all that I saw. I 
held her again, her sweet head nestled in its own place 
against my heart, and for a moment I did not observe the 
havoc that son’ow and suffering had made. 

“ There were people present, and voices sounded ; but I 
neither heard nor heeded, till her hysteric sobs were broken 
by a grave, stern voice of reproof : — 

“ ‘ Madeleine, my daughter, this is all very wrong. Do 
you set your God at defiance V 

“ She started up, afiTrighted ; but I drew her close to me 
again. 


624 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

“ ‘Am I addressing Mr. Hartstone V I asked, in as respect- 
ful a tone as I could command. ‘ If so, he will, of course, 
excuse this want of ceremony on the part of a husband 
who has been so long separated from his wife, doubtful 
even, until within the last fortnight, whether she were 
living or dead.’ 

“ ‘ I am Mr. Hartstone,’ was the reply. ‘ I am the father 
of that young lady ; and, as you appear not to be apprised 
of the fact, I must tell you that we do not recognize any 
claim on your part to use the language and adopt the 
manner you do towards our daughter. I must insist on 
your quitting the apartment, sir. We consider your whole 

course of conduct so unworthy -’ He hesitated as 

he looked at me, doubting, perhaps, whether it would be 
wise to take a high tone. I replied, as calmly as I could, — 

“ ‘ I perceive, sir, that you are laboring under some mis- 
apprehensions, which I cannot doubt a few words of expla- 
nation will remove. But we must have no discussion here. 
As for the authority for my words and actions, they are 
contained in my marriage certi6cate, and another docu- 
ment, lawful in' our remote Territory, — the attestation, 
namely, of the commandant and other officers at the mili- 
tary post where your daughter and I were united. Your 
daughter has doubtless certified you that she gave herself 
to me willingly. Is it not so, my Madie V 

“ ‘ Oh, yes, yes I I told papa all that,’ she said, without 
looking up. Each minute, as I held her, the great, the 
terrible change that had come over my precious one was 
forcing itself more and more palpably upon me. She had 
become comparatively tranquil as I soothed her ; but her 
heart, as I could feel, was beating as if it would leap out 
of its prison. 

“ A pale, gentle-looking lady, whom it was easy to recog- 
nize as her mother, busied herself with offers of restora- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


625 


lives, and other ministrations to her daughter's comfort. 
In spite of her husband’s forbidding frown, she looked in- 
dulgently at me when she saw the perfect love and trust 
with which Madie at length raised her eyes to mine. 

“ The father still showed no symptoms of yielding. 

‘‘ ‘ In my own bouse, sir, do you brave me V he said. 

By no means,’ I replied; ‘on the contrary, I could 
wish that after a little you would allow me to meet what- 
ever you may advance in condemnation of what has passed 
between your-nlaughter and myself. If, however, you are 
in earnest in your request that I should at once leave your 
roof, I shall have to ask Mrs. Hartstone to kindly supply 
my wife with a bonnet and shawl, that I may take her to 
some other asylum. You are not afraid to trust yourself 
to my strong arms, my Madie V I inquired. ‘ I have car- 
ried you when you were a far greater weight than now.’ 
And I gathered her attenuated form still closer to me. 

“ Her mother broke down at these words. She looked 
at her husband, and he again at me. Perhaps the w^ay in 
which my darling clung to me softened him : after a mo- 
ment’s deliberation, he said, — 

“ ‘ I have, of course, no wish to drive my daughter from 
my house, nor have I suggested, sir, that you should leave 
it. That is not Kentucky fashion. If you are, as you 
affirm, armed with the authority of the law, it is in vain 
for me to interpose my protest. My only son is away with 
Harrison’s army. His mode of dealing with the question 
might be different ; at my age, however, and in view of 
my position as a professor, I have no alternative but to 
allow my daughter to decide between us. I have set be- 
fore her her duty — I can do no more. Madeleine, my 
daughter, whom do you prefer to have remain with you, 
— your parents or this gentleman V 

“ She raised herself and clasped me around the neck 
53 


626 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


with her poor, thin arms. ‘ He is my husband, ray own 
was all she said. Her mother, all in tears, pointed to the 
bell-handle. 

“ ‘ If you need anything,’ she said, ‘ a servant will be at 
hand to attend to you.’ Then, drawing near as her hus- 
band quitted the apartment, ‘ If you can soothe her to sleep,’ 
she whispered, ' I will then take your place, and the sooner 
this matter is settled with her father the better.’ 

“ I did not disturb my darling by a single question. It 
was enough for me to witness, with heart-breaking anguish, 
the result of the efforts used to separate us. After a time, 
when I had brought her into a placid and even happy frame 
of mind, by talking to her of our little one and the good 
friends who had her in charge, or by narrating amusing 
little incidents that had transpired since we parted, she 
fell into a tranquil slumber, and I repaired to my inter- 
view with Mr. Hartstone. 

“The story I learned was to this effect: — • 

“ No doubt or thought of dissatisfaction had existed in 
the mind of my brother-in-law until the second day that he 
went fishing with Robineau and Wau-kaun-kah. Then it 
was that the former enlarged upon the subject of my mar- 
riage with Espanola and the manner in which it had been 
dissolved. Tom had been from the first a little annoyed 
at the idea of the connection,— from hatred of the race, 
merely : the question of color, so long as the union was 
sanctioned by neither law nor gospel, would have had no- 
thing particularly repulsive to him. When I had told him 
about my former marriage, and explained to him that it 
had proved to be, in effect, no marriage, it was all very 
well. He rather laughed at my effort ‘ to whitewash my- 
self,’ as he called it, ‘when there was not the slightest 
occasion.’ That I had regarded the tie as temporary — one 
to be broken according to the whim or convenience of the 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


627 


moment — would, to his mind, have been extenuation suffi- 
cient. That Espanola had taken the initiative and run 
away, was, according to his ideas, in the nature of things. 

‘ She had seen somebody she liked better, either white or 
red; that was the way with these colored women: they 
were always fond of change.’ 

“ Certain hints from Robineau, however, set him thinking, 
and he regarded it as a fortunate cireumstance that Amable 
Laupien should be of the fishing-party on the following 
day, ready and willing to afford still further information in 
answer to his questions. That wretch had no scruple in 
assuring him that the tie between Espanola and myself 
was regarded by hei^ and her family as a valid marriage, 
and that it was not until my proposal to bring home the 
young white girl as a second wife, that her eyes were 
opened. That Espanola had entreated and pleaded with 
me not to give her place to another, but, finding me so reso- 
lute as even to go to Big Foot’s village myself and pur- 
chase the young girl, with a sum so large that I had to 
assign poverty as an excuse for not taking my wife and 
child with me on a visit that I made to Montreal about 
that time, — then she saw she was to be thrust out. Every- 
body could understand that a white wife would not toler- 
ate a red woman in the same lodge. That after the white 
wife was bought and brought, Espafiola went to her father’s 
to visit for a time, hoping I would reconsider my deter- 
mination and remember what a good and loving wife she 
had ever been to me, and trusting, also, that I would re- 
flect that a marriage such as ours was, by the customs of 
the country, as strong as the tie could possibly be made; 
but, my heart being set on this young girl, I would not and 
could not live away from her, so all hope for poor Espanola 
had to be given up, and she was now, after two years, still 
unhappy and disgraced in her father’s lodge. And, to add 


628 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


to her grief, her little girl, that she had been so ambitious 
for, was growing up wild like any other pappoose, — ‘ very 
unlike,’ Amable took care to add, ‘ her more fortunate 
little sister.’ 

“ That word added fuel to flame with young Hartstone. 
That this little wild Indian should be indeed the sister of 
his niece — that he should be connected by ties of blood 
with the race he abhorred I It was almost worse than if 
Monica had been declared a mulatto ! The hatred of Ken- 
tuckians for the Indians, at this day, amounted almost to 
insanity ; and Hartstone was one of the most extreme in 
his feelings. He swore an oath to himself at the moment 
that the innocent little Madeleine should be no niece of his, 
and also that his sister, from the instant he took her under 
,his charge for her journey to her father’s house, should 
never more be my wife. 

“ He held himself, as I could recall, under tolerable re- 
straint until we parted at the Aux Plaines ; but from that 
time forward he horrified his sister, as she afterwards told 
me, by expressing doubts whether the tie that bound us 
would stand good in law. This was but a preparation for 
what followed. 

“ Mr. Hartstone, the father, was a stern, narrow-minded 
religionist. He was easily won to adopt his son’s views, 
and to regard me as having taken advantage of the service 
I had rendered his daughter to entice her to what could 
not be looked upon otherwise than as a life of shame — a 
breach of the seventh commandment. 

“ My poor Madie pleaded in vain that all legal forms 
had been complied with — that we had been married out of 
the Prayer-Book, and in the presence of the commanding 
officer of the post. She only added to my condemnation. 
A man who could do as I was admitted to have done, would 
not scruple to fabricate documents. As for the Prayer- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


629 


Book — the English Prayer-Book — the book that our blood- 
thirsty enemies were at this very moment, probably, mum- 
bling over at the head of their regiments, — what was it but 
a mass of flummery, only too often pressed into the service 
of Satan ? Had not the excellent Elder K. lately remarked, 
in one of his searching discourses, that Mt was just fit to 
freeze hell over’ ? And as for ofiScers, everybody knew 
what they became after a seasoning out on the frontier! 

“Tom was; the ipore viqlent, his father the more im- 
placable and bitter. The satisfaction of finding his long- 
lost daughter was more than counterbalanced by the dis- 
honor that had been put upon her, and there could be no 
reviving sentiment of tenderness so long as she maintained 
so unwaveringly her trust in me, 

“ The mother, as mothers will ever do, took her daughter 
to her heart, and tried to comfort her in her bitter trial ; 
but the persistent harping of her father upon a theme so 
grievous and humiliating, the separation from me and her 
child brouglit about by the war, and the fact of her never 
receiving any tidings from me, all wore upon her gentle 
nature, until at length her health gave way. Her father 
succeeded in persuading her that her marriage with me 
was a mere nullity — that I was the husband of Espanola 
and of no one else — that she had no right to bring an ille- 
gitimate child into an honored and honorable home-^and 
that her duty was to take the earliest opportunity of ap- 
prising me of her views .and her determination to live no 
longer the life she had lived. 

“ She had, in all this time, received but one letter from 
me ; whether the others had been intercepted or lost on 
the way, I never knew. 

“ Tom had gone off to the war at the first blast of the bugle. 
He was with General Harrison, and formed one of Johnson’s 
cavalry, a position most congenial to so fervent an Indian- 

53 * 


630 


MARK LOOAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Later as he proclaimed himself. Whether his absence made 
his sister’s position less intolerable, I cannot say. They 
had accomplished their work. The moment I gazed fully 
upon my precious one, I saw that she would never embrace 
her child again.” 


CHAPTER LXXXVIL 

It was several minutes before Mr. McGregor could con- 
tinue his narrative. At length he proceeded : — 

I met all that Mr. Hartstone had to advance, with a 
patient statement of the facts as they actually existed. 

“ It was, of course, a tremendous evil in his eyes that I 
had; in the first place, married a native ; that I bad not, 
when she left me' called in the military force to compel her 
to return to me ; that, failing in that, I had not contented 
myself under my enforced widowhood, instead of attempt- 
ing to yoke myself again ; and so on, through innumerable 
counts. 

“ ‘And how about your daughter V I could not forbear 
asking. ‘ Should I have left her in Big Foot’s lodge ? or 
should I have brought her into my own home, to live under 
my protection, an object of suspicion, however pure and 
innocent she might be V 

“ ‘ Oh, as to that, when we look at all the features of the 
case, we are unquestionably your debtors ; and I am afraid 
Tom did not sufficiently keep in mind the fate from which 
you saved his sister. He dwelt too much on the family 
honor. Poor Tom I He is too high-toned. He always 
thinks of the blood of the Hartstones, not remembering’ 
(here he changed to a lower key) ‘that which is written, 
“Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”’ 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


631 


“ ‘ Poor Tom P might he well saj. A few days only 
had elapsed, and they had established a perfectly good 
understanding between my father-indaw and myself, when, 
along with the news of the battle of the Thames, came 
tidings fraught with woe to the Hartstone mansion. Tom, 
the only son — the handsome and brave — the pride and 
glory of his parents — was laid low by a Shawnee bullet 
in the first flush of victory. The grief of her parents 
told disastrously on my poor Madie. She mourned, too, 
for Tom, and grieved that she had been the cause of 
trouble and mortification to him. 

“ ‘ But I could not help it, dear, could I she would 
ask. ‘Do you think mamma blames me for his going? 
Does she think he would have stayed at home if it had not 
been for me?’ 

“ I would do all in my power to reassure her ; but still, 
in her weak and nervous state, the idea of having been in 
some way accessory to her brother’s death preyed upon 
her, and, added to what she had already undergone, 
proved too much for her to bear. Before two months 
more had passed, the unfortunate father and mother w:ere 
‘ written childless.’ 

“ It was a comfort to me,” said Mr. McGregor, after a 
short pause, “that I could minister to the parents of my 
darling during the many months that ensued in which there 
was no possibility of returning to my child, the object, 
now, of all my solicitude. A fatality seemed, however, to 
have settled upon the household. Mr. Hartstone, seeking 
to divert his mind by out-of-door occupation, exposed him- 
self too carelessly about his plantation in some of the 
cold, sleety weather of the following winter. He was 
attacked with a pleurisy, which carried him off in a little 
more than a week. This put the finishing-stroke to my 
poor mother-in law, already an invalid. Before the birds 


632 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


again sang among the branches, she too was laid in the 
family vault beside her husband and daughter. 

“ Mr. Hartstone, by will, left all his property, which 
was very considerable, to his little grand-daughter, after 
his wife. No stronger proof could have been given of his 
utter renunciation of former prejudices. 

“ I had no opportunity of returning to the Prairie for 
many months after these events ; not even on the declara- 
tion of peace, as the knowledge of that happy event 
reached us in the winter, and the ice was an effectual 
barrier to the ascent of the Mississippi until spring should 
unlock the chain. 

But I could not remain quiet in that desolate mansion, 
where I had found the knell of all my hopes. I must be 
away and busy. I spent a little time in St. Louis, and then 
joined an expedition for trapping, hunting, and making 
acquaintance among the peaceful Otoes and Omahas. 

The executors of Mr. Hartstone, who were also my 
daughter’s trustees, having taken due information from my 
business friends in St. Louis, felt justified in allowing her 
ready money to be invested in the American Fur Com- 
pany, of which I was now a member. For this reason it 
was more than ever my interest to extend its relations and 
labor for its success. 

“ While I was in St. Louis, a singular incident occurred. 
I was walking along the street one day, when, at a short 
distance before me, I saw a woman in native costume 
leading by the hand a little girl about nine or ten years 
of age. The thought flashed through ray mind, ‘ My 
little Monica must be now about that age and size. Poor 
child I Instead of the garb of civilization, she is perhaps 
arrayed in match-ee-ko-tah* and mitasses,f ranging wild, a 


* Cloth petticoat. 


t Leggings. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


633 


veritable little sauvagesse. It must not, shall not be. As 
soon as I return home, I will set measures on foot to ob- 
tain leave of her Indian protectors to educate and provide 
for her. Money will perhaps accomplish what prayers 
and arguments have failed to do.’ As we walked on, the 
little girl suddenly looked back, and her bright, pretty 
face brought my poor Monica still more strongly to my 
mind. 

'‘She said something to the Indian woman who accom- 
panied her. The latter did not turn, but drew her couverte* 
of blue cloth more closely over her face. Involuntarily I 
quickened my pace. 

“ They soon reached a large building, the lower shutters 
of which were closed, and entered an alley at the side of 
the house. As I came opposite the passage, they were 
just being let in at a low door, and for a moment the 
woman turned and glanced towards the street. There 
was a look and movement so like Espanola, that, with- 
out a moment’s reflection, I darted forward ; but the 
door closed suddenly after the two, and I saw them no 
more. I retraced my steps to the street, smiling at my 
folly in thus imagining a double resemblance in entire 
strangers. 

“When I was at length able to return to this place, I 
found myself anxiously waited for. Neither McCann nor 
Bayne were willing to remain longer in this region. They 
were British subjects, and such they proposed to remain. 
With reluctance I was compelled to part with my faithful 
friends and see my dear little Malliq again left without 
a mother’s care. I arranged my household as well as I 
could. McKee and his daughter Nannie were disposed to 
do their utmost in keeping matters orderly and comfort- 


* Blanket. 


634 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


able ; but it was sad and lonely, and not too home-like at 
its very best. 

“ The one great want, that of a nurse in whom I could 
confide, was the trial which most disturbed my quiet. I 
might, it is true, have brought out two or three servants 
from the Kentucky household, among whom there were 
several of superior qualifications; but it had happened 
that an opportunity presented of leasing on favorable terms 
the whole establishment, servants included, and it had 
seemed best not to disarrange anything belonging to it. 
Thus was I situated, when my little Mallie fell ill of 
scarlet fever, and I was reduced almost to the verge of 
despair. 

“ Our neighbors were kind in calling and offering their 
temporary services, but there was no one who could take 
the charge and fill the office of head-nurse. I was totally 
inexperienced, Nannie hardly less so. I trembled con- 
stantly lest we might, in our ignorance, commit some fatal 
blunder. 

“ The child continued to grow worse. The post surgeon 
and the old half-Indian doctress whom, to the great annoy- 
ance of the former, I begged to drop in three or four times 
a day, looked anything but hopeful. Oh, the agony of 
those long nights, when I sat with my poor little one in 
my arms, carefully striving to carry out all the physician’s 
directions, but feeling how ineffectual were my efforts to 
supply the tender, instinctive motherly skill of which she 
had need ! 

“ At last came a crisis when I felt that I must give her 
up. It was late in the evening, and the doctor had not 
yet left after his customary last visit. The child lay on a 
little couch, and, as I watched the physician observing, 
investigating, scrutinizing, I trembled lest the next words 
should be the exhortation to ‘ bear it like a man 1’ and I 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 635 

answered aloud, in anticipation, ‘ I cannot bear it — I 
cannot see her die I’ and I rose up in my agitation and 
left the room. 

“I remained away but a short time, or what seemed 
such, absorbed as I was in the bitterness of my grief. 
Saying to myself, ‘ It is doubtless all over by this time,’ 
I again entered the sick-room. The doctor had gone> but 
in the dim half-light I perceived two attendants, — the 
neighbor I had left, and anbther woman in the native 
costume^ who sat with the child upon her lap, and who 
bent her head to conceal her fiic^ as I drew near. I saw 
at a glance that it was Espanola, but I did not address 
her by name. 

“ ‘ Does the child live V I asked, in Chippewa. 

“ ‘ She lives ; she will live,’ was the low answer. 

“ All the night we tended her, and when the doctor 
came in the morning he too said she would live. It was 
only then that I could withdraw my mind to the con- 
templation of other subjects ; only then that for the second 
time I addressed a question to Espanola: — 

“ ‘My other child, — Monica, — where is she V 

“ ‘ She is here. I received your message and brought 
her.’ 

“ The neighbor bustled about a little in preparing some 
cups of coffee, having partaken of which herself, she de- 
parted. 

“ I summoned Nannie, and signed to Espanola to retire. 

“ ‘ Go and take some rest,’ I said : ‘you are fatigued.’ 

“‘No, I cannot leave the child,’ she replied. ‘She’ 
needs my care: the good God has given her into my 
charge.’ 

“ I looked at her in amazement. ‘ Who has taught you 
this lesson V I asked. 

“ ‘My cousin, the Reverend Mother at St. Louis.’ 


636 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ ‘ Then it was you whom I saw at St. Louis I How 
came you there V 

“ ‘ I went there to school. Father Leon had baptized 
me and made me a Christian. It was necessary that I 
should learn to live as a Christian.’ 

“Here was indeed a change. ‘Was it Monica,’ I 
asked, ‘ that I saw with you at the door of the convent ?’ 

“ ‘ She was with me at the convent.’ 

“‘And she is now here? We must, not disturb the 
child: when she is quite out of danger, her sister must 
come and look upon her.’ 

“ ‘ She is to be her sister?’ 

“ ‘ She is to be her sister.’ 

“ I dreaded her next question, lest it should be, — 

“‘And I?’ 

“ But Espanola proffered not another word. She sat 
with her head bowed over little Madeleine, as she again 
lay upon her lap, and until the latter stirred with a faint 
moan she never changed her position by a hair’s breadth. 

“ From that time forward until her complete recovery 
Espanola nursed the child with the most assiduous care ; 
when all danger even of a relapse was past, she went away 
quietly one morning, in my absence, leaving Monica behind 
her. 

“ Whether the child was glad to be so left I could not 
determine. She had not seemed to manifest affection 
either for her little sister or for me. Her reply to my 
inquiries whether she would try to be happy in her new 
home was the simple, ‘ My mother says it is best for me to 
be here.’ And if she were otherwise than contented, no 
one was ever the wiser. 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


63t 


CHAPTER LXXXYIII. 

“ If the charge of one child had been a care and a per- 
plexity, that of two was, naturally, a double source of 
solicitude. 

“Monica was of an age to require a teacher more ad- 
vanced than any I found myself able to procure^ She had 
already been many months in the convent at St. Louis, 
where, her abilities being of a rather superior order, she 
had made good progress in her studies ; she could read 
and write, and speak both French and English tolerably 
well. Her mother, as I afterwards learned, had remained 
there with her, and had, from the time of her conversion, 
applied herself to the acquisition of so much of the ordinary 
branches of education as Would enable her to appear re- 
spectably in the civilized position which was now with 
her a matter of preference. 

“ I was reluctant to separate my little girls, but wished 
rather to have them grow up in love and mutual depend- 
ence ; and I rejoiced to see that Madeleine at once attached 
herself with her characteristic enthusiasm to her quiet and 
undemonstrative sister. How to secure for the two the 
proper supervision in their daily walk in life, to say nothing 
of their intellectual training, was now a matter of perplexity 
to me. While turning this question painfully in my mind, 
I received one day a call from a venerable-looking eccle- 
siastic, who meekly inquired if he could be permitted to 
see and converse with the little Catholic child — my daughter, 
as he understood- — -who had been baptized hy him a few 
years previous. 

“I should have made no objection under any circum- 

54 


G38 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


stances : as it was, the almost saintly appearance of the 
old man made me hasten to gratify him. Monica was 
summoned, and after a few inquiries about her welfare, and 
a few questions and answers upon religious subjects, she 
was dismissed so promptly and decidedly that I saw that 
my visitor had another and more important errand in hand. 
He did not keep me long waiting. . 

“ ‘ The mother of that child is a monument of God’s 
goodness to one who had long sat in darkness I’ he said. 

“ I could not reply in corresponding phraseology, but I 
assented, with the remark, ‘ She seems indeed greatly 
changed.’ 

“ ‘ Truly, she is I From a heathen she has become a 
Christian — an humble, penitent Christian. All her faults, 
ail her short-comings, have been expiated with tears and 
penances. And as she has sought forgiveness, so has she 
extended it to others. If she has had wrongs from any 
one, she is ready to cast the remembrance of them from 
her, and to be in a spirit of divine charity with all the 
world.’ He looked at me. 

“ ‘ She has had no wrongs at my hand,’ 1 said. 

“ ‘ She forgives all,’ he repeated, ‘ and would herself be 
forgiven by all. God has forgiven her, — his representa- 
tives on earth have so declared it, — and shall man,’ here he 
looked at me again pathetically, ‘ shall man be less merci- 
ful to his fellow-transgressor ? Shall the poor unhappy 
one sue in vain for pardon ?’ 

‘‘I had foreseen the point to which he was tending — 
Espanola wished to return to me. That she should ever 
again take the place she had vacated, my Madeleine’s place, 
was not for a moment to be thought, of. Yet, obstinate 
tjiough I may be by nature, I could not quite resist the 
pleading accents of the old man. 

“ ‘ I have forgiven Espanola,’ I said. ' Of that she is 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 639 

well aware. Nay, more than that, I am deeply grateful 
to her. She has saved the life of my other child.’ 

“ ‘ Say rather that the good God has, for his own wise 
and merciful purposes, saved your child by her hand. It 
was He who gave her this claim to your tender considera- 
tion.’ 

“ The brightening of his countenance was beautiful to 
look on, but it moved me only in part. 

“ ‘ Espanola was my wife,’ I said, ‘ and she threw from 
her the title and position : they were given to another, and 
cannot be a second time transferred. She who lies shrouded 
in the tomb will ever and alone be my wife, until we meet 
in a better world.’ 

The good priest’s countenance fell, for I spoke with 
solemn determination. 

“‘And her child,’ he said, ^your child, must then be 
branded with a stigma ? You will tell the world that you 
have but one daughter, the one saved by this poor woman’s 
watchful care ; and that the other is ’ 

“ ‘No,’ I said, hastening to interrupt him; ‘I have al- 
ready shown to the world that Monica is my child equally 
with Madeleine. As for Espanola, she is welcome, if it so 
pleases her, to bear my name — to preside in my household 
— to occupy the place of a mother to both my daughters. 
She knows me well enough to feel assured of all the re- 
spect and consideration on m}^ part that she can claim or 
desire. I will provide for her every comfort — my money 
and my time, to every reasonable extent, will be at her 
service. She shall have a portion of the mansion assigned 
to her, where she can live in absolute independence ; and 
she shall have the undisputed control of our eldest child, 
who has been already, I observe, carefully trained in her 
own faith. She cannot, it is true, take again the place she 
has left — that is out of the question ; but if this which I 


640 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


offer will content her, you, sir, may tie the knot between 
us according to the forms of your Church, if that is allowed 
where one party is a heretic, at any moment you may 
choose.’ 

“ ‘If she cannot recover the place she once occupied in 
your heart and in your home,’ said the ecclesiastic, ‘she 
must, of necessity, accept that which is offered her — a 
position of respectability. And she must accept it with 
thankfulness ; for it was her own fault that she listened to 
a deceiver. Has it come to your knowledge, my good 
sir, that there was a most heinous motive prompting the 
action of the base Amable Laupein V 

‘ Jealousy of my prosperity, and a determination to 
mar my happiness V I asked. 

“‘No — a wish to detach your wife from 3^00, that he 
might win her for himself. He gathered from your brother- 
in-law that the latter would use his influence with his 
parents to detain their child in Kentucky and not permit 
her to return to you. He made’ sure that in that case you 
would go to seek your wife, and probably be compelled to 
prolong your sojourn there for some time ; for he knew, 
though you did not, that war with Great Britain was im- 
minent. He counted on using 3"our absence to prove to 
Espanola that she was hopelessly deserted, in which case 
he persuaded himself that she would turn to him for conso- 
lation. It was in the depths of her grief and despair at the 
discovery of this systematic treachery, and at the recollec- 
tiqn of all that her own headstrong action had deprived 
her of, that I found her on my first missionary tour to the 
village of her father. 

“ ‘ She did not listen to my consolations at first ; but 
when I at length became acquainted with the history of 
her family and ascertained that she was related to the 
Superior of the Convent of Santa Anna, at St. Louis, I 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


641 


Smparted all the information I had gained to the Reverend 
Mother. She sent a pious sister with me on a second 
mission, and God blessed our efforts for the salvation of 
this poor soul, along with some few others of her race. 
In time she consented, her mother being no more, to go 
with me to her relative in St. Louis, there to begin a 
civilized and a Christian life.’ 

‘'I was much touched with the explanation of the good 
old priest, which was, of course, more detailed than I have 
given it to you. In a few days he waited on me again, to 
tell me that Espanola was at the house of the cure who 
bad been established here to take charge of the few sheep 
in the wilderness. She was not yet sufficiently civilized 
to put on any airs of reluctance, but had come from her 
Indian home at the first summons. I asked her if she 
understood and accepted the terms on which alone I could 
invite her to return. She bowed her head without speak- 
ing; and so the Christian ceremony was pronounced be- 
tween us, in the apartment which served as a vestry to 
the little church. 

“ How it comported with the conscientious scruples of 
Father Leon to receive our vows in an engagement which 
was to be in reality no marriage, I have never been able 
to understand. Perhaps he hoped that at no distant day 
our relations would be modified — that Espanola would, in 
time, win back for herself the place which she had for- 
feited ; but it was not so. That which had been established 
and agreed upon between us, remained unchanged until 
the day of her death, which took place a little more than 
two years ago.” 

My friend,” said Mr. Lindsay, “ to what a terrible 
punishment was this poor woman condemned ! Would it 
not have been kinder to have left her in her native wig- 
wam, with only the past grief to gnaw at her heart ?” 

54 * 


642 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


civilized, for bis personal endowments and heroic traits of 
No, I think not. You must remember that she had 
no educated sensibilities to be wounded by my indifference. 
Had her love for me been that which you imply, she would 
not have held out against all my efforts to win her back to 
my arras. No; in her visit to her relative at St. Louis 
she learned something of the shame and scandal of a 
divorce; she found how, under the most extenuating cir- 
cumstances, such a severance of the marriage-bond is re- 
garded by her Church; and she became aware, for the first 
time, of the position in which she had placed her child, on 
whom she doted. I am quite certain that the ostensible 
recovery of a position of respectability and dignity fully 
atoned to her for any distance and reserve in my deport- 
ment. She used conscientiously her best efforts to please 
me, and, except in one particular, she succeeded extremely 
well.’’ 

“ Did she attempt to instil the tenets of her own faith 
into the mind of your youngest daughter ?” asked Mr. 
Lindsay. “ That is usually the apple of discord in house- 
holds of a divided faith.” 

^‘No, it was not that. I had almost said it was some- 
thing worse. It was a matter concerning her own child. 
Espanola ever kept up the custom of visiting her own rela- 
tives from time to time, and on these occasions, as I for- 
bore to interfere, she would take Monica, who had a rather 
exaggerated admiration and fondness for her mother’s 
people. As she would occasionally, after her return, make 
mention of the praiseworthy efforts of the child to win 
her relatives from paganism and to teach them Christian 
principles, I saw nothing to object to in these visits, till it 
came to my knowledge that the prominent object of these 
instructions and this solicitude was a young brave, her 
cousin, who has been remarked by all, both native and 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


643 


character, — no less a personage than the famous Red Bird, 
who, as I informed you, put an end to his existence in 
prison the night on which my poor Monica disappeared. I 
should say, in excuse for my daughter, that she was ex- 
tremely young — not more than fourteen — when the attach- 
ment first commenced ’’ 

“Why, my friend,” exclaimed Mr. Lindsay, “should 
you apologize for what appears to me the most natural 
thing in the world ? The only wonder would have been if 
your daughter had remained indifferent to the extraor- 
dinary gifts, physical and moral, with which nature seems 
to have endowed this young man, when circumstances so 
strongly recommended him to her tender interest, and 
when too, in all probability, her mother sanctioned her 
preference.” 

“ Whether she did so, or whether she only wilfully shut 
her eyes to what was going on, imagining that if the 
young savage became a Christian through our child’s in- 
strumentality I would be willing to accept him as a son- 
in-law, I could never learn. It always appeared to me that 
she was not dealing quite frankly with me when she de- 
clared it to be her earnest wish that Monica should dismiss 
him from her thoughts, and promised her efforts to separate 
them. She should not have suffered matters to grow to 
such a head as they had by the time Monica was sixteen. 
Through her mother’s influence, as I suppose, and in obedi- 
ence to my commands, she gave up the young brave, who 
had now become a chief, and who remained a heathen in 
spite of her labors ; but she has never been happy since. 
Indeed, for several years I lived in constant dread that 
she would, for his sake, resolve to relinquish the comforts 
and the respectability of civilized life. 

“We kept her at the convent in St. Louis for three 
years, as a matter of safety. It was only after the young 


644 MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 

man married in his own tribe, and showed that bethought 
no more of her, that I ventured to bring her home ; and 
they never, that I am aware of, saw each other from that 
time, until she happened in her journey home last summer 
to meet him, a prisoner under military guard for crimes 
which rendered him amenable to the laws.’^ 


CHAPTER LXXXIX. 

We must now go back to the evening of Madame 
JarroPs party Miss McOregor, as has been related, on 
quitting young Tremblay, descended the steps of the 
porch and glided towards the clump of cedar-trees. 
Though the sky was dark with the approaching -storm, 
and the falling snow obscured the light from the windows 
to such a degree that it was not possible to distinguish 
objects clearly, she was aware, as she approached the 
place of rendezvous, of a dark mass partly enshrouded in 
the foliage. 

Not doubting that it was Tshah-nee-kah, she ventured 
a low “ P’haa-zheek (Who is it ?) For answer, she 
found herself suddenly wrapped, almost to suffocation, 
in a heavy blanket which strong arms threw over her 
head and around her, while the deep guttural “ Woank-hah 
nau-woo-nar !’’ (No noise 1) told her that the clasp was not 
that of a friend. 

Though thus admonished, she attempted a murmured 
explanation, when instantly the blade of a hunting- (or, as 
it was more customary to say, scalping-) knife drawn across 
the wrist, which was grasped tightly by one hand of the 
person whose other arm supported her and who seemed 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


645 


to carry his weapon ready for action, warned her to 
silence. 

Sho was dragged, rather than conducted, for a few rods, 
then lifted on a pony, upon which was already seated a 
third person, who, holding her fast in his arms, started 
off in the jerky but rapid gait natural to the animal he 
bestrode. The distance for which this pace continued, al- 
though but a few miles in fact, seemed to Miss McGregor 
interminable. The agitation and distress which filled her 
mind gave no room for speculation as to the causes of the 
mistake into which she imagined her captors to have 
fallen. It was evident that she was to be borne far away, 
for she after a time found her uneasy seat upon the animal 
exchanged for a still more uncomfortable position in a 
canoe of the narrowest dimensions. 

At a command, in the unforgotten tones which she recog- 
nized as those of Tshah-nee>kah, to “ lie flat and keep per- 
fectly quiet,” she became completely lost in conjecture 
and perplexity. What could it mean ? Tshah-nee-kah, of 
all others, should not have been at a loss touching the 
identity of one who had spoken to him in his own lan- 
guage ! 

W'as it possible that there had been really no mistake? 
— that it was by design that she had been seized instead 
of her sister ? 

The adroit and powerful arm of her first captor suffi- 
ciently revealed To-shun-neek, the brother of Way-noo- 
nah. It was with him that she had planned and plotted, 

to him that she had shown how a scheme of this kind 

could be carried out. He was perfectly aware that her 
sister could not address him in Winnebago ; her first word 
must have pointed her out as one of his own race. 

Had there been, all along, a settled plan on their part 
to entrap her instead of her sister, to take her to their 


646 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


village and perhaps make her over to the tender mercies 
of a jealous, vindictive woman ? Had the very means 
she had taken to save poor Wau-nig-sootsh-kah been those 
most fitted to insure her own destruction ? 

Suddenly the idea flashed across her, — and it was more 
bitter than all other suggestions, — Was this a trick of 
Jerome’s ? Had he divined the treachery she was prac- 
tising towards him, and provided her punishment by an 
act of treachery possibly the most direful in its conse- 
quences ? 

Yes, it must be so. A thousand recollections came 
rushing to confirm the suspicion. His apparent acquies- 
cence in all that she proposed ; his buoyancy of spirit in 
the dance, which, as she now recalled, savored of tri- 
umph ; the large blue blanket, provided, perhaps, with a 
lingering feeling of anxiety for her comfort ; all these, 
added to the certainty that there could have been, on the 
part of the savages, no want of recognition of her identity, 
left her little doubt that the cup she had prepared for 
another was, by deliberate scheming and with a terrible 
justice, commended to her own lips. 

If this were indeed true, if Jerome and the family of 
Way-noo-nah had concerted together to pay off scores old 
and new, what was to be her fate ? She knew her own 
people ; she was aware that forgiveness of injuries formed 
no part of their code of morals; and although a captive 
woman was, as a general rule, treated by them with 
respect, yet there were enough of legends and traditions 
in the storehouse of her memory to give her a shuddering 
premonition of the manner in which Wa3^-noo-nah might 
possibly be pleased to exercise the Indian woman’s pre- 
rogative when her rival should be delivered a prisoner 
into her hands. Had she not once, with her own ej^es, 
seen a tress of long fair hair streaming from a little scalp- 


MARK LOO AN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


64t 

frame which a haggard squaw was brandishing as she 
rushed to mingle frantically in a dance of triumph ? 

For a time, burning indignation against Jerome, who 
had thus betrayed her, chased away all thought of fear, 
and caused the blood to course rapidly through her veins, 
making her insensible to the insufficiency of her clothing 
and the fatigues she had undergone ; but soon came a 
reaction, and, chilled, exhausted, and wretched, she cowered 
in the narrow limits assigned her, to brood on the convic- 
tion that all her efforts, all her sacrifices of principle in 
behalf of the man she loved, would but tend to rivet his 
chains the tighter. 

She gave no sign of consciousness until a whoop, which 
she recognized as the salutation of a white man, not the 
lusty, sonorous yelp of an Indian, caused her to spring up 
and throw back the covering in which she was enveloped. 
Her quick eye had time to take in, through the gray of the 
morning, a glimpse of a canoe paddled by a couple of voy- 
ageurs, when a strong arm drew her quickly to her former 
recumbent position, and a voice whose mandate — “ Mee- 
quee-ray I” (Lie down !) — was accompanied by a significant 
gesture towards the knife-scabbard which an Indian ever 
wears depending from his neck, left her no choice but 
obedience. 

“ If they are any of my father’s men,” she said to her- 
self, “they are sharp enough to have detected that I am no 
native; and, as I shall be missed immediately, their report 
will put those who are in search of me on the right track. 

If they are only in time ! Oh, if they are only in time!” 

The Puans paddled on with vigorous strokes for many 
succeeding hours. It was evident that they were afraid _ 
of being overtaken ; also, that their own powers of en- 
during both hunger and fatigue were the gauge by which 
they measured those of their captive. 


648 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


At length the canoe was run in to a bank, and the two 
Indians leaped on shore. The kneeling position which 
they had so long preserved seemed not in the slightest 
degree to have impaired their activity ; but Monica found, 
to her dismay, that the long-continued constraint to which 
she, had been subjected had so cramped her limbs as to 
render her unable to rise. 

What if her captors should take the hint, and disembar- 
rass themselves of her forever, by leaving her to perish 
with cold in this lonely spot ? At the thought she raised 
herself with a desperate effort, and commenced chafing her 
feet and ankles. The younger savage looked somewhat 
compassionately at her as he quietly remarked, — 

“ See-nee hee-noo I” (It is cold.) 

The elder, in reply, uttered a low observation, at which 
the other laughed. Monica hoped she did not rightly un- 
derstand it : it sounded like — 

“ She will be warm enough by-and-by !” 

“ They will never dare to be guilty of such an atrocity I” 
she exclaimed, mentally, as she strove to crush down the 
recollection of the terrible fate of the unhappy Colonel 
Crawford. “ There will be those of their tribe to whom I 
can appeal. I am a good walker. I can make my escape 
while they sleep, and travel to the Barribault villages and 
claim the protection of Day-kau-ray and The Little Elk. 
The principal chiefs will, from policy, if from no other con- 
sideration, never allow me to be sacrificed. Ami not the 
daughter of Ilaunk-shee-kah ? They will not, they dare 
not leave me to the vengeance of that terrible woman !*” 

If the thought that the evils she was now suffering were 
precisely those which she had prepared for her loving and 
unoffending sister would now and then force itself upon 
her, she strove to stifle it with, — 

“ As long as it did not happen to her, and I am bearing 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


649 


it all, what is the use of dwelling upon possibilities ? It 
is 1 who am suffering, and Madeleine is at home, safe and 
comfortable, with doubtless her father and her lover both 
ministering all in their power to her happiness. That is 
ever the way ! It is upon me that the burden of suffering 
and disappointment is ever laid 1 Well, I can bear, I sup- 
pose, all that may be in store I Still, I shall try, all the 
same, to release myself, and avoid the necessity of showing 
these Puans how thoroughly I am of their blood.” 

With this determination, she applied herself to the res- 
toration of the suspended circulation, until, in time,, she 
found herself able to quit the canoe and walk up and down 
in the light snow with which the bank was covered. 

After a time To-shun-neek, with the utmost nonchalance, 
produced a small porche or bag of smoked deer-skin from 
the bottom of the canoe— it was anything but inviting in 
appearance. This he opened, and drew forth a handful 
of biscuits, dealing them out, without partiality, to the 
young lady and to his father. By further fumbling he next 
produced a boiled buffalo-tongue, which he proceeded to 
carve with his scalping-knife and divide equitably. She 
recognized the hand of Jerome in the viands thus laid in 
store. Bitter as was his resentment against her, he was 
yet, as it seemed, willing to spare her all minor aggrava- 
tions of her punishment. The very sight of To-shun-neek’s 
receptacle was sufiScient to take away all appetite for its 
contents, yet Monica forced herself to munch a couple of 
the biscuits, for she knew that it would not do to impair 
her strength by absolute fasting, at a time when she would 
have need of all her physical powers. 

For the same reason, she exercised herself in walking 
briskly up and down, striving to put herself in a glow 
during the short period of respite afforded her before her 
captors resumed their silent, monotonous voyage. 

55 


650 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


CHAPTER XC. 

It was not until the forenoon of the second day that 
their voyage was brought to a close, and that, as was evi- 
dent, quite unexpectedly to the Indians themselves. 

A young Winnebago standing upon a little promontory, 
which they were approaching, shouted with the peculiar 
'' news halloo,” which warned them to stop and receive 
tidings. 

“ There are people up above/’ Miss McGregor heard 
him say, as Tshah-nee-kah and his son sprang ashore and 
walked quietly to join him. The rest of the communica- 
tion was lost to her ear. It was evidently of serious im- 
port, for it was received with all the gesticulations which 
betoken astonishment and grief The lifting of the hand, 
and the lugubrious change in the countenances of both, 
prepared her for some tale of horror ; but neither of her 
companions approached to impart aught to her. 

After a low, rapid conference with each other, the father 
and son stepped forward, gathered up their paddles and 
guns, drew the canoe into a little bayou between two 
hillocks, and made ready for their departure. It seemed 
an after-thought of old Tshah-nee*kah to disembarrass 
himself of his tattered, filthy green blanket and substi- 
tute it for the new blue one in which Miss McGregor sat 
wrapped. The derisive laugh with which he answered 
her exclamation of astonishment and disgust, put the 
climax to her humiliation. Cold and hunger and exhaus- 
tion, — the treachery of the friend she had believed devoted 
to her, — the cruelty of her mother’s people, whom she had 
loved so well, — even the upbraidings of her own conscience. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


651 


she had borne with silent heroism ; but this last petty 
indignity overwhelmed her. She bent her head into her 
hands, and wept in bitter earnest. 

When she raised her eyes she was alone, for the young 
Puan who had brought tidings was just disappearing by 
a path into the woods, somewhat diverging from the one 
which “ The Autumn’’ and ‘"The Otter” had taken. 

What was she now to do ? Verily a retribution had 
overtaken her, — retribution doubly terrible, inasmuch as 
her fate involved, perhaps, that of Wau-nig-sootsh-kah. 

She could not comfort herself with the certainty that 
the freedom of the Red Bird would be offered as the price 
of her restoration to her friends. Nobody would believe 
that she could have been kidnapped by her own people ; 
they would rather feel convinced that she had gone to 
them, or with them of her own accord ; and if that was 
her father’s view of the matter, would he not say, in his 
anger, “ Let her have her own way ! If she prefers her 
mother’s people, let her make the trial of a life among 
them” ? Convictions like these did not help her to bear 
the terrible present, — :the thoughts of the still more terri- 
ble future. But which way could she look for escape? 

She shouted aloud, hoping to call back the messenger 
and inquire of him who were the people of whom he had 
spoken ; for his words had implied that they were stran- 
gers, and the looks and actions of her captors showed that 
they were unwelcome ones. ; 

She made the woods ring with her shrill, clear voice, 
but there were none that answered. Save the echoes that 
seemed to mOck at her distress. Now and then a crow 
would wing his flight and perch upon a branch near her, 
while, with discordant, melancholy note, he expressed his 
disapprobation of th'ngs in general. No other sight or 
sound broke the stillness of the solitude. 


652 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


“ They actually mean to leave me here to perish !” said 
the unhappy girl. “ They fear that if I were carried to 
their home there would be some one to speak for my life ; 
and they have taken this way to secure Way-noo-nah 
against any such interposition. Oh, Jerome, wicked and 
cruel I was this, too, a feature of your planning ? If so, 
are you now rejoicing in the conviction of its success?’’ 

Suddenly it flashed through her mind that this was 
God’s holy day. She had not, since her capture, kept track 
of the flight of time. She had numbered only the anguish 
of the present hours, the possible horrors of the future. 

Monica had, from a child, been scrupulously exact in 
her religious observances ; but in this the hour of her 
calamity “to which of the saints should she turn ?” She 
might call, but would there be any to answer her ? Dared 
she invoke their holy aid, even against outward perils ? 
Could she hope that good angels would show her a way 
out of the pit which she had digged for herself? She 
might vow a costly offering in payment of their interpo- 
sition for her relief ; the time had been when she would 
have ventured thus to bargain, 'but now she dared not, — 
it was forcing itself too palpably upon her conscience that 
she was but receiving the due reward of her own deeds. 
The blessed saints, if they were indeed permitted to look 
down upon her career, would, she felt, turn from her with 
horror. 

She was not yet prepared, however, to supplicate for- 
giveness for her transgressions, and grace for the time to 
come. She could only bow her head in utter despondency, 
and, as she chafed her benumbed hands and wiped away 
the tears that would flow in spite of her efforts to suppress 
them, cry out,^ 

“ Oh, I have sinned I I have sinned ! What is to become 
of me ? My father ! My poor Madeleine I Is there no 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


653 


one to help me ? Am I to die and lie nnburied, a prey to 
the wild beasts of the land ? — I, that have loved myself so 
well 

Worn with her travels up and down the margin of the 
river, for she was afraid to venture within the precincts of 
the wood, lest she should cut herself off from all chance of 
rescue, she at length seated herself on the frozen bank in 
utter hopelessness. She felt no strength to resist longer — 
a torpor was beginning to cteep over her, which bade fair 
to put a speedy end to her sorrows. 

The beat of hoofs upon the hard ground had hardly 
power to rouse her; yet, as the sounds drew nearer, she 
felt a sudden revulsion which enabled her to spring to her 
feet and send forth a cry in answer to the shouts that were 
ringing in the air. 

She saw horsemen approaching ; she thought she recog- 
nized the leader of the party ; her heart gave one great 
bound as she knew that she was saved ; then she lost all 
consciousness. 

A little brandy from the flask which Logan carried, and 
the efficient ministrations in which he was assisted by the 
anxious old Michaud, ere long restored her to animation. 
In an incredibly short time their attendant, a practised 
woodman, had made a brisk fire in a spot from which the 
snow -had blown, and was able to supply her with a cup 
of hot tea and a repast far more in accordance with her 
taste and habitudes than the larder of To-shun-neek had 
afforded. 

The young bourgeois had enjoined his engages to give 
no hint in Miss McGregor’s presence of the fate of L’Oiseau 
Kouge. He was the fi*iend of her childhood, ho had told 
them in explanation, “ and the poor young lady, if she had 
not already heard the sad news, had better learn it from 
her father or sister after her return.” 

55 * 


654 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Monica’s cheerfulness was in a measure, restored by the 
time the halt was over. She stoutly resisted Logan’s 
proposition to have the tent pitched, that she might enjoy 
some hours of rest before setting her face homeward. 

“ No, she was not fatigued ; she had been cramped in the 
little canoe, and somewhat discouraged and disheartened ; 
that was all. She had felt sure, all along, that some kind 
friend would undertake to pursue and rescue her, though, 
to toll the truth, she had not expected aid so soon.” 

And, in the unwonted fulness of her heart, she narrated 
the circumstances of her abduction — of the warning her 
captors had received from the young Puan, not omitting 
the parting insult she had received at the hands of the old 
chief. 

“ Ah, that is what became of the blue four-point said 
Logan to bimself. “I have been a little puzzled at not 
finding the young lady wrapped in it.” But he gave no 
utterance to his thoughts in the matter ; he only explained, 
with an air of contrition, that he had enlisted the services 
of a young Winnebago, whom he had found at an encamp- 
ment of his people some distance below, by the. promise 
of a bottle of phaa-zhee-nee-nah,* to hurry forward by a 
short cut to this bend of the river, w'hich he had calculated 
the canoe would probably reach this forenoon. 

‘‘ We must stop as we pass their lodges,” Logan said, 
“ that I may pay the young fellow his wages. It goes a 
little against my conscience ; but your life and safety were 
the first consideration.” 

“And there is always this comforting certainty, that 
some decrepit old grandmother or chief, who is already 
intemperate, will cry and beg away the greater part of his 
treasure, so that your present will not be likely to do him 


Whiskey — literally, Fire-water. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


655 


much harm,” said Miss McGregor, who had become more 
affable and gracious than the bourgeois had seen her since, 
in the days of'their journey up the Fox River, she had 
made it her policy to propitiate him. In detailing the par- 
ticulars of her capture, she, however, made no mention of 
young Tremblay ; and Logan was equally reticent. 

They did not reach the Indian encampment, whence the 
messenger had been dispatched, until the following morn- 
ing. The bourgeois recommended to Miss McGregor to 
keep on the trail with their two attendants, while he should 
ride aside and fulfil his contract with the young Puan ; but 
to this suggestion she would not listen. She had a little 
errand there herself, she said, though without explaining 
that it was to send a messenger to Day-kau-ray, to ap- 
prise him of the outrage she had received at the hand of 
Tshah-nee-kah. 

Logan saw that all his precautions had been in vain. 
She would learn all that had happened, even to its most 
heart-rending particulars, as soon as she put foot among 
the people of Wau-nig-sootsh-kah. And so it was. 

After a conference with a group of the elders of the 
band, she rejoined her travelling companions with a mien 
as if struck by a mortal blow. She again took her place 
in the cavalcade, which, according to custom, proceeded in 
single file along the narrow beaten trail across hill, valley, 
and prairie. Never once during the livelong day did she 
break the silence, except in reply to some question or 
remark prompted by Logan’s solicitude, or by that of old 
Michaud, to whom the grief of his master’s daughter was 
almost as if it were that of an angel from the skies. 

Thus they continued their way through the following 
day, when, just as evening was closing in, they reached 
the outskirts of the settlement. 

“ If you will have the goodness to take me to the house 


656 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


of the Reverend M. St. Train, I shall be greatly obliged,’’ 
said Miss McGregor, briefly, 

Logan directed the steps of the party towards the dwell- 
ing of the good priest and his sister. 

“Perhaps I had better send on Michaud, to let your 
father know we will be there presently,” he suggested. 

“ No ; if you please, you will be the bearer of my mes- 
sage to my father and sister. I shall not see them again ; 
but do not pain them by telling them so, just yet. Beg 
them, if you please, to leave me to myself, until they hear 
again from me. As soon as I feel able to write, I will 
do so.” 

“ At least they may send you some changes of clothing,” 
said the thoughtful young man, as he gazed with compas- 
sion on her strange attire. She had, it is true, discarded 
the vile garment which Tshah-nee-kah had thrown around 
her, but the severity of the weather had made her glad to 
accept a similar though more cleanly wrapping from the 
stores which Michaud had provided. Her hood, in which 
she had lain crushed for two days among the mud and 
snow in the bottom of the canoe, her light party dress 
soiled, draggled, and hanging limp about her heels, her 
hair, all unconscious of a comb since the hour when she 
had made her toilet for the dance at Madame Jarrot’s, 
together presented a spectacle of melancholy, almost beg- 
garly, discomfort. 

“ Ah, yes I if you will be so good,” she replied to the 
suggestion of the bourgeois. “ Miss Rosalie is so petite 
that I should not be able to wear her clothes. Ask my 
sister to send me what will answer for me till to-morrow. 
Mind that you say till to-morrow, if you please.’^ 

With these few words, she entered the door of her 
reverend friend, and left Logan to proceed to the mansion 
of Mr. McGregor with the story of his success. 


MARK LOQAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


657 


CHAPTER XCL 

Mrs. Holcomb, to whom the abduction of Miss Mc- 
Gregor had furnished a valuable topic of comment and 
conjecture, while circulating around the whole range of 
the officers’ quarters to detail all she had heard and all 
she suspected, was not remiss in hastening to offer her 
condolences to the sorrowing sister. 

It was in vain that her cousin Grace endeavored to con- 
vince her that, under such trying circumstances, the visits 
of any but their nearest friends would be an intrusion. 
Mrs. Holcomb was not to be repelled ; and Madeleine, who 
disliked the idea of closing her doors against their little 
world, was obliged to suffer a daily torrent of question 
and gossip which were now more than ever distasteful. 

“ Come, now, you must let me cheer you up a little,” 
the obtrusive lady cried, as she entered the parlor on 
the fourth day of Logan’s absence. “I cannot have you 
brooding and fretting in this way. I have come furnished 
with a new stock of ammunition, as we say in the army, 
and 1 shall make you welcome to my first cartridge.” And 
the lady laughed in enjoyment of her own wit. “ Grace, 
did I tell you about Bumble-bee Banks ?” 

“ Bumble-bee Banks I No. What place is that?” 

‘‘Not a place at all, you simple child, but an officer, — 
Captain Banks I His Christian name was Yan Bummell. 
I knew him when we were stationed at the Harbor.* He 
was only a lieutenant then; and partly for his name, — I 
hope he got a fortune with it, — partly because he was for- 


* Saokett’s Harbor. 


e58 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


ever going about buzzing and buzzing pretty things into 
the ears of the girls, not omitting the married ladies either’^ 
(with a self-complacent nod), “ we gave him this nickname. 
He buzzed to some purpose ; for he stung the heart of a 
very pretty girl in the town there, who had lots of money, 
and used to try to outshine us all with her silks and her 
satins and her laces. The poor thing didn’t live long, 
with all her finery I” 

“ I remember Monica wrote me about the death of a 
Mrs. Banks soon after they arrived here last spring.” 

“ Yes, and — would you believe it ? — her husband went 
down to Fort Armstrong two months ago, and married a 
niece of the sutler’s down there, an ignorant little body, 
that he fancied looked like his dear Abby. I suppose he 
married her out of respect to Abby’s memory I” 

“ Oh, Edith, what an idea 1” 

“ I have not a doubt of it ; and — whether out of respect 
for dear Abby or out of stinginess I can’t say — he has given 
her all his first wife’s clothes, and this morning she was 
parading round the garrison, returning her wedding-calls, 
in poor Abby’s best hat and new broadcloth cloak I Did 
you ever hear anything to beat that?” 

“ It was strange,” said Madeleine, with a look of ab- 
sence ; “ but perhaps the poor thing had nothing else to 
make an appearance in.” 

Of course she hadn’t. She was a poor niece that the 
sutler brought out to ‘swap off,’ as the polite young gentle- 
men say. Well, this has taught me one lesson. If any- 
thing is ever likely to happen to me, I shall have all my 
best things packed up at once and directed to my father ; 
and I shall send them to the quartermaster myself, with 
orders to have them forwarded without another person’s 
presuming to lay a finger upon them. No parading round 
in my finery by any second Mrs. Charlie Holcomb. I 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 659 

should grit my teeth at the very idea, if I had been dead 
a month I’’ 

“ If anything was likely to happen to you, as you express 
it, depend upon it, Edith, your wardrobe would be the 
least of your concern,” said her cousin. 

“I don’t know — it always has been the first thing,” 
said Mrs. Holcomb, with charming simplicity. “ A poorly- 
dressed woman is as much my aversion as a poorly-dressed 
dinner is my husband’s. He sometimes intimates that if 
he has to put up with the one I shall have to put up with 
the other ; but, thanks to deai^ generous papa, that is a 
matter beyond his control.” 

Seeing that Madeleine manifested little interest in the 
subject she had started, Mrs. Holcomb turned to other 
topics of garrison news,-T-a soldier drummed round the 
parade-ground with half his head shaved and one sleeve 
cut off, for an attempt to desert. “ The most comical 
figure you ever saw I” she declared. 

“ And you saw him ?” her cousin inquired. 

“ Certainly — why not ? What is there to amuse us in 
the garrison if we shut our eyes on the public perform- 
ances ? It was as good as a play to see poor little Smithett’s 
teeth chatter and his eyes roll, as he asked what would 
happen if an officer was away without leave and got caught. 
I told him I rather thought they would put on his uniform 
upside down, and stand him on his head in the middle of 
the parade. I don’t believe he slept a wink that night for 
thinking of it.” 

Mrs. Holcomb spun out her visit as long as decency 
would permit, until, finding that no invitation to stay 
and finish the evening was proffered, for Madeleine was 
aware of her father’s positive dislike to the silly, chatter- 
ing woman, she at length took her leave. It was nearly 
dark. Madeleine had given orders to put off tea to a 
1 


660 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


little beyond the usual hour, for she had a constant hope, 
amounting almost to an expectation, of hearing a rap at 
the door, and seeing the travelling party enter, her sister 
foremost among them. 

After Mrs. Holcomb’s departure, she went to the library 
to announce to her father and Mr. Lindsay that the parlor 
was again free for them to enjoy, all together, a chat around 
the bright, cheerful fire. 

“Now we will see who shall be the first one to hear 
their rap at the door I” she said, cheerily ; but no rap came, 
and it happened in this way. 

Cateesh, in her impatience, had gone, for the fourth or 
fifth time, to gaze from the front steps in the direction that 
the returning party must approach. She was still stand- 
ing, peering forth, when Logan came upon her suddenly. 
As he was alone, she did not immediately recognize him 
in his wrappings ; but at bis first word of salutation she 
flew in before him, throwing open the parlor-door with the 
announcement, — 

“ Yoici Monsieur Mark 1” 

“We have brought her back, sir,” cried Logan, then 
suddenly stopped. 

Mr. Lindsay had sprung from his seat at the first sound 
of salutation. He seemed for a moment transfixed as he 
gazed at the young man in bis heavy capote, his face all 
aglow with exercise and excitement. 

Logan likewise stood still— it was but for a moment. 
With a hurried step forward the father opened his arms, 
and in an instant the two were locked in each other’s 
embrace. 

“ My son, my son I” “ And am I, then, forgiven ?” were 
but the signals for a renewed embrace and a more hearty 
hand-shaking. 

Mr. McGregor, filled with amazement, could only utter, 

I 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


661 


How is this ? How is this ? Let me understand it I 
Logan and Malcolm the same ? Mallie, why was I not 
told of this? But what, my little lassie! Crying? What 
is that for?” 

“ They are not tears of grief,” said Madeleine, smiling. 
“ But where is Monica ? I do not see her here,” she asked, 
anxiously, and turning away to hide the embarrassment 
caused by Mr. Lindsay’s searching glance. 

Logaur— or, as we must now say, Malcolm — explained 
that had left Miss McGregor with Miss Rosalie, and, as 
he added that she had received from the Indians whom 
they met on their way some communication which ap- 
peared to have depressed her spirits, her determination to 
remain all night with friends of her own faith occasioned 
no surprise to those who easily divined the cause of her 
depression. 

“ But come ; explain all this other matter to me I” said 
Mr. McGregor, as soon as he had heard a hasty summary 
of the journey in search of his daughter, as well as the 
particulars of her abduction. “ Let me understand how 
Malcolm came to be Logan, and how it happened, my 
young friend, that you informed me you were an Irish- 
man 1” 

“ Pardon me, sir, not an Irishman, but a native of 
Ireland. I drew my first breath, as I have been told, at 
the house of my mother’s sister, in the neighborhood of 
Lough Neagh. And I made use of that fortunate circum- 
stance to mystify those from whom I wished to conceal 
my identity.” 

“Ah, I see, I see ! Still, there seems no reason why 
you should not have made yourself known to me after 
your arrival here.” 

“And after you were aware of my wish for your re- 
turn,” added his father ; “ for I am informed by my friend 

56 


662 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


here that you have aided him in his inquiries for my 
missing son.” 

Malcolm smiled. 

Yes,” he said, “ I did not find him, because — well — 
because he was not yet quite ready to be found. But to 
answer your question, sir,” to Mr. McGregor ; “ I had com- 
menced a career, thanks to our good Patterson at Lachine, 
and there was the natural pride of winning a position for 

myself. But, first of all ” He hesitated, and looked 

towards Madeleine. 

“ You may speak out, my boy,” said his father. It is 
all right, if you can but win this dear little girl’s heart. 
Her father’s approbation you have alread}^ secured, I find, 
bourgeois though you were and without friends or patri- 
mony. I have been very jealous, I assure you, of this 
young Logan, for my son Malcolm’s sake. I thought he 
had stolen your sweetheart from you. I must forgive her 
for leaving me for three days in this wretched state of 
anxiety, which she might have relieved,” he said, looking 
a little reproachfully at Madeleine. “And now I must 
ask formally, in your behalf, the hand which you had un- 
dertaken to win without my aid.” 

Malcolm was by Madeleine’s side before his father had 
half finished his speech ; for the kind and benignant smile 
of Mr. McGregor told him all that words of affection and 
gratitude were not slow in confirming. 

The more minute features of his journey were, after a 
time, related by young Lindsay, in answer to the anxious 
questions of Mr. McGregor, who was still lost in conjec- 
tures as to the meaning of the outrage, Monica having 
carefully abstained from naming any participator except 
the old chief and his son, the Black Otter. 

Before the party assembled at the tea-table, “ the hour- 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


663 


geois was presented to Miss Latimer by his own name. 
Mr. McGregor adding the explanation, — 

“ My future son-in-law, as we hope, Miss Grace. What! 
you hear this with surprise ? Has not Mallie made a con- 
fidante of you 

“ Madeleine has kept as much of her secret as she was 
able,” said Miss Latimer, smiling. “ I suppose upon one 
point neither her own friends nor those of Mr. Lindsay 
were very much in the dark. I had not, however, the 
slightest suspicion that this young gentleman was her 
friend Malcolm, about whom I was inclined to rally her in 
the early days of our acquaintance ; and I must admit 
that I was not a little disappointed at finding, on my 
arrival here, that my friend did not possess that degree of 
constancy that I consider essential to a perfect character. 
At the same time, I cannot deny that an acquaintance with 
Mr. Logan inclined me to make allowatfces.” 

Malcolm bowed. 

I was always afraid,” said he, “that your keen eye 
might detect the imposture. I have had no secrets from 
Ewing ; and I have from time to time set him to watch, to 
detect whether you had any suspicion of the truth; but 
Madeleine seems to have been always upon her guard.” 

“ Not always,” replied Miss Latimer. “ Once, in speaking 
of something that happened in Quebec, she mentioned her 
friend Clara’s addressing her brother with, ‘Now, Mark, 
this will never do.’ It came out so naturally that it puz- 
zled me, particularly as she did not correct herself, nor 
look conscious, as I rather thought she ought, after such a 
mistake. Had I not been informed that Mr. Logan was 
an Irishman, I should have perhaps, as we say In my own 
country, put that and that together.” 

“ It was a most natural inadvertence,” said Lindsay. 
“I was more frequently called Mark by her and my sister 


664 


MARK LOQAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


than by my full name. They took the abbreviation from 
the peculiar manner in which a relative of my father’s used 
to pronounce my name. I was something of a favorite 
with the old lady, and when she was on a visit to us it 
would be Cousin Mah-colm this and Cousin Mah-colm 
that, from morning till night, until at length the girls fell 
into the habit of contracting my name to one syllable ; and 
1 was Mark with Miss Madeleine long before I added the 
Logan.’’ 

They were a cheerful, almost a merry party around the 
parlor fire that evening. Only upon Malcolm’s spirits lay a 
weight, caused by the mysterious words of Miss McGregor 
at their parting. His occasional silence and abstraction 
being, however, attributed by the others to fatigue and the 
effects of his cold and hurried journey, they were permitted 
to pass without remark. 

Mr. McGregor would have had his young friend take up 
his quarters at once under his roof, but from this he ex- 
cused himself until he should have notified Madame Trem- 
blay of his contemplated change of abode. 

“ The good lady will be vexed, I am afraid, at losing 
still another boarder from her table,” said Mr. McGregor. 

“Another?” inquired Malcolm. 

“ Have I not mentioned to you that Jerome went off in 
the boats which started for Lake Pepin the day after you 
left ? He asked leave to take his brother Napoleon’s place, 
and, for several reasons, I thought the change would be for 
our advantage, if not for his.” 

“I am glad he is gone,” said Malcolm, briefly, and 
changed the subject. 

In the hour which the young man spent in his father’s 
apartjnent before taking leave of him for the night, he re- 
ceived the leading particulars of his darling’s history, and 
learned that which Madeleine had already been apprised 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


665 


of by her father, — the relationship, namely, which she 
actually held to one whom she had loved as a mother, and 
also the causes, we will not say reasons, of her sister’s 
want of fraternal tenderness towards her. 

“ Madeleine shed many tears, her father told me, over 
the unhappy histories of her mother and step-mother,” pur- 
sued Mr. Lindsay. “ She now understands why her sister 
ever rejected the affection she was anxious to manifest to- 
wards her. She thinks it not unnatural that the sight of 
her mother’s unhappiness should have thus embittered her 
feelings. I, for my part, make no such allowances. Miss 
McGregor knew that her sister was in no way the cause 
of her mother’s sorrows, except by the mere fact of her 
existence. One thing is clear to my mind, my son — that 
your Madeleine is an angel — and if you are not happy in 
your married life, it will be your own fault.’^ 


CHAPTER XCII. 

Madeleine, on receiving from Logan her sister’s mes- 
sage, had promptly dispatched such articles of her ward- 
robe as would be most for her comfort, accompanied by a 
note expressive of the tenderest and most grateful feelings 
at her deliverance from peril and suffering. She had not, 
however, the satisfaction of a line in return ; a simple mes- 
sage of thanks was all. 

She was iif the library with her father on the following 
morning, anxiously awaiting the summons which they had 
been led to expect, or possibly the reappearance of Monica 
in her own home, when a letter was brought to Mr. Mc- 

56 * 


666 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


Gregor which plunged both father and daughter in the 
deepest distress. Its contents were as follows : — 

My Father, — From the depths of humiliation and 
contrition I write to bid you farewell. 

“ I have run my race in a vain world ! I have been . 
tried by temptation — I have failed and made miserable 
shipwreck. Henceforth there is only left for me the effort 
to live for God, if he will accept the offering of my remain- 
ing time and talents, hitherto so sadly misused. 

“ I will not pain the author of my being by a rehearsal 
of my short-comings, and of my misdeeds which have pre- 
vailed against me. My eyes are opened to perceive that 
these had their root in a jealousy of one who gave me, 
from her childhood upward, no reason to regard her with 
other feelings than those of affection. When I think of all 
that I planned for her hurt, I can only magnify the wisdom 
of God in defeating my schemes, and causing the mischief 
designed for another to fall upon my own head. And he 
has dealt me in rebuke a blow still more severe ; but of 
that I desire not to speak, so mighty is the anguish caused 
by its contemplation I 

“ It is my desire to retire into the Convent of Santa Anna, 
of which my mother’s cousin is the Lady Superior. 

“ She will receive me without a dowry beyond the small 
annuity to which, as my mother’s representative, I am 
entitled. My feeble talents will, if diligently employed, 
secure me from being a burden upon the little communit}^ 

“ I am aware that, from the unhappy circumstances-of 
my birth, I have no claim in the inheritance of your de- 
scendants ; my mother ever mourned that bjTiier persistent 
rejection of your offers and entreaties she sealed my fate 
in that respect, and left me to stand as an alien. Yet, if 
you could find it in your heart, in remembrance of her 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


subsequent devotion, to appropriate a small sum annually, 
to be expended in the support of orphans, or other chari- 
ties of the community to which I shall belong, it would call 
down a blessing from others besides your unhappy daughter. 

“ My father, I bid you farewell with feelings of grati- 
tude, — ^to you, for your unvarying kindness through my 
perverse life, and to my sister, for all that she has borne 
with from me. 

“Now that I am to see her no more, it comes upon me 
with clearest force, how loving and gentle and forbearing 
she has ever been, and how happy might have been my lot 
had I not suffered my mind to be poisoned by my over- 
weening devotion to my mother’s people. From these has 
come my punishment ! 

“ Every hope blasted, every scheme defeated, henceforth 
there only remains for me to make my peace with Heaven, 
and by a life of penitence, mortification, and good deeds, to 
atone as far as I may for the miserable past. 

“ Farewell, my father ! farewell, my sister ! until we meet 
in a land where sin is forgiven and sorrow forgotten. 

“ Your unhappy 

“ Monica.” 

To order the calhche and proceed to the house of Father 
St. Vrain, was the work of a very few minutes to Mr. 
McGregor. 

He preferred to leave Madeleine behind, believing that 
Monica might be more easily won to receive a visit from 
himself alone. He was perplexed to understand her letter. 
That she had tried to injure her sister, and that the mis- 
chief had recoiled on herself, was the obvious meaning of 
her words. But how ? 

Logan had intimated a conviction that Madeleine was 
the one to have been carried off. Gracious Heaven 1 could 


668 


MARK LOO AN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Monica have had any part in such a scheme ? Oh, no, 
no 1 — the idea was too horrible. 

He endeavored to dismiss the subject from his mind as 
he entered the priest’s humble dwelling and inquired for 
his daughter. Vain, however, were all his efforts to obtain 
an interview. 

“ She has taken her leave of this wo-rld,” said the good 
ecclesiastic, “ and is now before the altar, where she has 
been ever since her letter to you, and where she desires to 
remain, undisturbed, for yet a certain number of hours. 
Only assure her of your fatherly forgiveness, my dear sir, 
and you give your daughter all the consolation which she 
can receive from outward things. Let me, further, convey 
to her your approbation of the step she meditates ” 

“ No, no — not that,” said Mr. McGregor. “ I totally 
disapprove — that is, I cannot consent that she should bind 
herself by irrevocable vows. Of any offence such as my 
daughter charges herself with, I am profoundly ignorant. 
Whatever may be its nature, I fully and freely forgive her. 
And if she chooses to retire for a season from the world, 
that she may give herself to meditation and prayer, that 
is well ; she shall have the means to benefit to a generous 
extent the community which receives her as a guest. But 
I cannot sanction my daughter’s flying from known duties 
in pursuit of any chimera of devotion or benevolence. Let 
her seek for a season, then, all the consolation that soli- 
tude and religious observances will give her; after that, 
let her return to the home and the duties which God has 
assigned her. She must not expect my consent to any 
seclusion beyond that.” 

“ But, then, she will be very unhappy,” pleaded the cure, 
with a piteous look. “ Your daughter has had great trou- 
bles, her life has not been a cheerful one, and it may be 
that there are abroad in this naughty world those who are 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


669 


watching to do her harm. Who would deny an asylum 
of holy rest to one so stricken ? If there have been sins 
of omission and commission, (and whose record is free 
from such ?) is it not the part of wise and kind friends to 
smooth the path of penitence and peace ?” 

There was something quite irresistible in the tender 
pathos of the priest's appeal. Mr. McGregor answered it 
only in part. 

“ My daughter has my leave to enter a convent for a 
time," he said.' “ As to her burying herself for the re- 
mainder of her days, I must put a veto on such a step, at 
least until months of calm reflection have convinced her 
that such a course is most in conformity with the path 
God has marked out for her." 

Mr. McGregor hastily penned a few lines to his daughter, 
expressive of the views he had announced to her spiritual 
director, and urging her to return to the embrace of her 
father and sister, who loved her and desired her happiness. 
But Monica's resolution remained unshaken. She wished 
not to meet Madeleine, even though she believed her un- 
aware of the extent of the evil she had plotted against 
her. She suspected that the bourgeois had divined or 
been informed of much that she would blush to have 
known ; and she feared to face Jerome. Heretofore, in 
contemplating the possibility that young Tremblay, in his 
wrath at the discovery of her treachery to himself, would 
proclaim her complicity in her sister's abduction, she had 
laid the flattering unction to her soul that the Red Bird 
would, ere that moment could arrive, be released and she 
far away with him, beyond the ken of all who might blame 
or disparage. Now, there was not a single hope to stand 
between her and an accusing world ; there was, therefore, 
more than simple grief, or disappointment, or disgust with 
her lot, to hurry her away. 


6tO MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 

She accepted her father’s half-way permission, and the 
liberal addition to her purse which accompanied it, and, by 
the intervention of the kind-hearted priest, secured a pas- 
sage in the steamer which was to leave for St. Louis the 
ensuing evening. 

It was Madeleine whose pleadings won from her father, 
in process of time, consent for her sister to take the veil. 
She could well understand that since Monica had been dis- 
appointed in her early love, and had afterwards suffered 
so heart-rending a grief as the suicide of the Red Bird, 
the scenes in which these trials had occurred, as well 
as all associations connected with them, would induce 
feelings of bitterness and woe. She could fancy Monica 
tranquil and comparatively happy in the discharge of her 
self-imposed duties, but not otherwise than brooding and 
miserable in a sphere where she had never been more than 
tolerably cheerful. 

For these reasons, strengthened by an unexpected and 
earnest concurrence on the part of Malcolm, she urged 
her father to place no bar to the execution of her sister’s 
cherished plans; and, having succeeded in overcoming his 
opposition, she added a munificent benefaction of her own 
to the appropriation already set apart by him for the 
benefit of those in whose behalf Monica’s labors were 
henceforward to be directed. 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS, 


6tl 


CHAPTER XCIII. 

Mr. Lindsay was anxious that the marriage of his son 
with the daughter of his friend should be celebrated at 
once, and that the newly-married couple should return 
with him to Quebec. To the latter proposal, however, 
Mr. McGregor gave a decided negative. 

“ I cannot give up my little Mallie at a moment’s warn- 
ing,” he said. “ She is all that is left me now. And 
besides, Logan,” he added, smiling, “you are not yet out 
of your time. ‘For a year from date,’ your indentures 
run, if I mistake not.” 

“ Yes,” replied the young man; “and ‘not to commit 
matrimony within that time,’* is another stipulation. 
What shall we do, Mallie ?” 

“ We shall have to send for Judge Badeau and get him 
‘to put the papers in the stove,” said Madeleine, merrily, 
recalling the judge’s sentence of divorce, as Malcolm had 
described it to her, and as he now again related it for the 
amusement of his father. 

It was finally settled that there should be no delay of 
the marriage- ceremony, beyond that short period which 
young ladies, by common consent, declare to be indispen- 
sable. 

That the wedding should be a very quiet one, was 
equally the preference of all concerned. 

Very loud and general was the outcry with which the 
announcement of this feature in the arrangements was 


* Such were the conditions in the indentures of the Company’s clerks. 


672 MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS 

received in the circle of acquaintance, both civil and 
military. 

‘‘ If McGregor happened to have six other daughters to 
marry off and give entertainments for, like M. Tremblay, 
par exemple,” exclaimed that gentleman’s spouse, “the 
case would be different.” 

“ Toutefois — a wedding is not a funeral, voyez-vous,” 
chimed in Madame Jarrot. “Keeping the sister in remem- 
brance is all very well — that dear, sanctified Monique I” 
Madame Tremblay shrugged her shoulders. “ But is she 
not gone, I pray you, to be the bride of Heaven ? And 
should not that be a cause for rejoicing, not for putting on 
mourning? Ah I well, we shall see very different doings 
when that excellent Jerome has made his modest little 
quelqu’chose and comes back to claim his fiancee. There 
is a young man comme il faut! Taking his pack and 
plunging into the wilderness for the sake of her he loves! 
After that, the wedding ! For a wedding is a wedding, ma 
ch^re Homitile, and not a funeral !” 

Mrs. Holcomb protested loudly against the shabbiness 
of a bridal from which one’s friends were excluded. 

“ I do not say that the canaille should be invited, but 
the aristocracy of the army are certainly entitled to such 
an attention. The McGregors are standing very much in 
their own light. One would suppose they would wish to 
appear popular, and of some consequence in the eyes of 
this young man’s father, who, they say, has a daughter 
married to a nobleman. Whereas, they are putting it out 
of the power of other people to give them any ^clat. I had 
quite made up my mind to borrow Mrs. Captain Banks’s 
parlor and Mrs. Dr. Given’s handsome china tea-set and 
give a little fandango myself, just to compliment them. 
There is a man in Holcomb’s company who plays the 
fiddle — I could have had him for them to dance by — 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 6’[3 

and I could have coaxed little Smart out of any amount 
of good things to help do honor to the young lady she is 
so fond of. But, of course, all such plans are at an end 
now.” 

Lieutenant Smithett wished it to be understood that 
“things were never conducted in this sort of way in 
Bowling-green Place. He was astonished that, after the 
elder sister had been carried off in that disreputable way, 
the family should not see how necessary it was to keep 
themselves up to the mark in gentility by cultivating 
the notice of people who had seen something of society 1 
He did not suppose that that Lady Something that Mrs. 
Holcomb was speaking of, could be particularly proud of 
her brother hereafter, if she ever found out what a very 
inferior position he had been in 1 And, above all things, 
she must feel dreadfully if she should hear that he had 
married into a family where one member had been carried 
off by Indians I” 

The feelings of the little community were in this state of 
ferment when Madeleine walked down to the magasin one 
morning to make some purchases. She found Mrs. Smart 
there upon the same errand. 

“ It seems as if I ought to find everything I want at the 
shanty,” she said, “but I don’t, always, so I come over 
here. I hope you didn’t think it was unfeelingness that I 
didn’t come near you in your trouble. I thought of you 
enough ; but I’ve lived a good while in the world, and I’ve 
learnt better than to run plunging myself in on people 
that’s in affliction. When I can’t mend, I won’t mar — 
that’s my idea of kindness.” 

“ I am very sure you thought of us and felt for us,” said 
Madeleine. 

“ That’s what I did ; and there’s not one person, your- 
selves always excepted, that’s more proud and glad to 

57 


674 


MARK LOGAN, TEE BOURGEOIS. 


think things has turned out right between you and Mr. 
Logan. 

“ Thank you,” said Madeleine. “ You were always his 
friend, I know.” 

“ Yes, I was. I could always see that he was a gentle- 
man, though not in his right place. Now, a down-trodden 
gentleman is my delight. I do so like to lend them a 
helping hand — ask Smart if I don’t. It’s too bad, though, 
that we don’t happen to be in a country where there’s a 
church, where I could go and see you stand up side by 
side, as I always hoped I should, some day I But you 
must take my good wishes all the same ; and may you be 
just as happy as you deserve to be !” 

“ And would it really give you pleasure to see us mar- 
ried ?” said Madeleine, touched by the good lady’s affec- 
tionate warmth and by the tears that she could not quite 
keep back, even while she puckered her mouth into a 
smile. 

“ Pleasure ? Bless your dear little heart I that wouldn’t 
begin to tell how I should feel. You’ve both been so good 
to me ; and I’ve always been keeping my eye on theJbee- 
vee, as my Corbin says, for fear Old Nick was a going, 
somehow, to put his cloven foot into the business. I guess 
there’s nobody but your two papas that would be so glad 
as I should, to see it carried out with my own eyes.” 

Madeleine understood Mrs. Smart’s involved assurances 
as they were intended, and responded to them by the grati- 
fying remark, — 

“^If you care so much about seeing me married to your 
Mr. Boo-joo, whose right name happens to be Lindsay and 
not Logan, I shall certainly send you an invitation as soon 
as the day is fixed.” 

And won’t you just let me make you a pyramid of 
wedding-cake— just as a last favor to me, after so many ? 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 6 '1 5 

I can assure you I shall do my very best ; and that is say- 
ing something,” cried the enthusiastic little dame. 

Madeleine promised to accept her present, and left her 
in a state little short of beatitude. 

Having given this invitation, Madeleine found that she 
must of necessity depart from her original plan and include 
all the rest of the world. 

“And, after all, as one is married but once,” said Mal- 
colm, “ why not gratify those who have been so kind and 
civil to us? I, for my part, quite agree with Madame 
Jarrot, whose opinion was given with great frankness to 
Ewing last evening, ‘A wedding is a wedding, and not a 
funeral.’” 

Jerome did not return for his fiancee, after having made 
his “modest little quelqu^chose.^’ He took to himself a soft- 
eyed little Yankton partner, with whom he very frequently 
made himself merry over the trick he had played on a 
false fair one, only lamenting (the Ho-tshung-rah !) that 
his revenge had been nipped in the bud, and not carried 
out to one-half the extent of what he had concerted with 
the relatives of Wau-nig-sootsh-kah. 

That Ewing and Miss Latimer, either before or after hav- 
ing officiated as groomsman and bridesmaid, should have 
made the discovery that they were as well suited to each 
other as were Malcolm and Madeleine, will astonish no one. 

It did not surprise Mrs* Holcomb. She “ had always 
known that Grace meant to pick up a beau if she could.” 
She “ did not imagine it was exactly for that that papa 
undertook to send her that long journey at his own ex- 
pense ; but of course he would think it all right. What- 
ever Grace did was right.” She “wondered if he would 
think he must give her a wedding outfit; and, if he did, 
whether that would make any difference in the amount he 
might set apart for her, for her year’s allowance 1” 


6t6 


MARK LOGAN, THE BOURGEOIS. 


Any plans that Mrs. Holcomb . might have gossipped 
over, of testifying to Mr. Lindsay, senior, the tolerance 
■with which the “ aristocracy of the army” were disposed 
to regard his new daughterdn-law,- were cut short by the 
movements of the parties most concerned. 

'' La Prairie” having naturally become to the McGregor 
circle a less cheerful abode than it had been in months past, 
it was decided to take advantage of the Saint Martin, or In- 
dian Summer, and pass the months which should intervene 
before spring, in the pleasant region where Madeleine’s 
worldly possessions chiefly centred. 

In her mother’s Kentucky home, on the banks of the 
beautiful Ohio, there were still a few of the ancient re- 
tainers who could discourse about pretty Miss Madie, so 
long lost, and for such a brief, sad season restored ; and 
in the neighborhood were to be found more than one old 
friend of the family, whose delight it was to recall, for the 
gratification of the daughter’s filial sensibilities, every little 
particular of the object of so much tender interest. 

And hardly less was their satisfaction in listening to all 
she could be tempted to impart of the varied incidents of 
her young life ; especially in gleaning from her every par- 
ticular of the “wonderful and romantic history” of her 
finding, all unforewarned, the well-born and carefully edu- 
cated young gentleman who had won her girlish affections, 
earning his pay and homely rations, for her sake, in an 
Indian outfit, under the name and style of 


Mark Logan, the Bourgeois. 


ADVEETISEMEITT. 


The reader who is well versed in the history of “ The 
Frontier’^ fifty years ago will detect, here and there, a 
slight anachronism. These, it is believed, are confined to 
points of minor importance, — the precise date of a pay- 
ment, or some similar insignificant occurrence. 

One departure from the strict routine of events will be 
found in the transfer of the Winnebago prisoners to the 
care of General Atkinson at Petit Bocher^ instead of at 
the Portage. The conduct of the story made this inac- 
curacy unavoidable : the writer trusts it will be pardoned 
in a work which professes to be, not veritable history, but 
fiction. 

It is unnecessary to explain that the prominent military 
characters are not designed as portraits of those who 
actually commanded in the expedition to demand the sur- 
render of the Red Bird. No two persons could be more 
unlike than Colonel Bentley and the gentle, kind-hearted 
Colonel William Whistler. 

The writer deems it fitting to bear her testimony, in this 
place, to the fact of the outrages which the Winnebagoes 
received at the hands of certain boatmen on the Upper 
Mississippi, and which led to what is known as the Win- 
nebago war. 


57 * 


( 677 ) 


618 


AD VERTISEMENT. 


Letters still extant, from prominent citizens of the 
Prairie, of the date of July, 1821, attest this ; they also 
prove conclusively that “ Reminiscences,” published fifty 
years after events have occurred, may unwittingly create 
false impressions, and thereby do very great injustice. 
But of these particulars more hereafter. 

The Authoress. 


SAINT MICHAEL 

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OR, 

WliVIVIWO HIS SPURS. 

IBir On A.I^,ILE:s IKZma-. 

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“The sketches of life in a cavalry command on the frontier are exceedingly 
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“ Not for many a season has there appeared before the public a novel so 
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to please the veriest ennuye, while its charming stjde would disarm the most 
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draws now upon pathos, now up->nr humor, but never str - ins either qua'ity to its 
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imaginary characters filling their parts in a book. '1 he military incidents are 
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The Colonel’s Daughter; or. Winning His Spurs,’ a story of militarylift 
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“A BRILLIANT PICTURE OF GARRISON LIFE.” 

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By Captain CHARLES KING, U.S.A., 

Author of “ The Colonel’s Daughter," 

“ Kitty’s Conquest," etc. 

x2mo. Extra cloth - - - - - - $1.25 

" Captain King has done what the many admirers of his charming 
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appearing in the pages of this volume. The scenes of the story are laid 
in the frontier country of the West, and fights with the Cheyenne Indians 
afford sufficiently stirring incidents. The same bright, sparkling style 
and easy manner which rendered ‘ The Colonel's Daughter’ and ‘ Kitty’s 
Conquest’ so popular and so delightful, characterize the present volume. 
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“ Captain King has caught the true spirit of the American novel, for 
he has endowed his work fully and freely with the dash, vigor, breeziness, 
bravery, tenderness, and truth which are recognized throughout the 
world as our national characteristics. Moreover, he is letting in a flood 
of light upon the hidden details of army life in our frontier garrisons and 
amid the hills of the Indian country, fie is giving the public a bit of 
insight into the career of a United States soldier, and abundantly de- 
monstrating that the Custers and Mileses and Crooks of to-day are not 
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of those who went down with the guns in the great civil strife. Captain 
King’s narrative work is singularly fascinating.” — St. Louis Republican. 

‘‘ As descriptions of life at an army post, and of the vicissitudes, trials, 
and heroisms of army life on the plains, in what are called ‘ times of 
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"Will take rank with Its gifted author’s vivid romance, ‘The Colonel's 
Daughter,’ and should become as popular. Capt. King writes fluently and 
felicitously, and in the novel under review there is not a tiresome page. Every- 
thing is graphic, telling, and interesting. The plot is of particular excellence.” 
— Philadelphia Evening Call. 

" ‘ Kitty’s Conquest,’ a charming little story of love and adventure, by 
Charles King, U.S.A. The plot is laid in the South during the reconstruction 
period following the late war. 'Ihe book is written in a most attractive style, 
and abounds in bright passages. The characters are drawn in a very pleasing 
manner, and the plot is handled very successfully throughout. It is altogether 
a pleasing addition to the library of modern fiction." — Boston Post. 

‘‘ A bright, original, captivating story. The scene is laid in the South some 
twelve years ago. It is full of life from the word ‘go !’ and maintains its inters 
est uninterruptedly to the end. The varying fortunes through which the hero 
pursues his ‘ military love-making’ are graphically depicted, and a spice of dan- 
gerous adventure makes the story all the more readable.” — New York School 
yournal. 

‘‘A bright and vivaciously-told story’, whose incidents, largely founded upon 
fact, occurred some twelve y’ears ago. The scene, opening in Alabama, is soon 
transferred to New Orleans, where the interest mainly centres, revolving round 
the troublous days when Kellogg and McEnery were de facto and de jure 
claimants of supreme power in Louisiana, wV.en the air was filled with notes of 
warlike preparation and the tread of armed men. Though the heroes are, foi 
the most part. United States officers, there is yet nothing but kindly courtesy 
and generous good-will in the tone of the story’, and its delineations of Southert 
character and life, of Southern scenes, and the circumstances and conditions of 
the time. The author is Charles King, himself a United States soldier, whose 
story of ‘ The Colonel’s Daughter’ has been well received." — New Orleatu 
Times- Democrat. 


♦** For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by mail, postage prepaid. o« 
receipt of the price, by 

J B. LIPFINCOTT COMPANY, Publishers, 


715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 


ON BOTH SIDES. 

By Miss Fanny Courtenay Baylor. 
iloiitaiDing “ The Perfect Treasure” and “ On This Side, ’ the whole forming a complete stoij 
I2ino. Extra cloth. $1.25. 


*'No such faithful, candid, kindly, brilliant, and incisive presentation of 
English and American types has before been achieved. The wit of the 
story is considerable. It is written brilliantly, yet not flimsily. It is the 
best international novel that either side has hitherto produced. It is written 
by an American woman who really knows both countries, and who has shown 
that she possesses powers which ought to put her in the front rank of fiction." 
— Ne7u York Tribune, 

“ For a number cf months past the readers of Lippincott' s Magazine have 
been delighted by the instalments of one of the most charming stories that has 
yet been written by an American girl, and the wonder was that the story did 
not excite a wider interest. ‘On Both Sides’ has now been published in book 
form, and proves to be a positive surprise to the literary world. There is 
neither an Englishman nor an American writer on this side or that who might 
not be proud to have written this international novel. It will be one of the 
most popular books of the season, — one that will be read, criticised, and 
talked about in all the circles of intelligent .society.” — New Orleans Picayune, 

“Miss Baylor's clever story has had such high marks of appreciation during 
its appearance as a serial in Lippincott’ s Magazine , that its publication in 
book form is most gratifying. There is one test of the unfailing spirit and 
good humor of the novel. Hosts of magazine readers have been awaiting its 
publication, as a whole, in order to mail it to English friends. Both nationali- 
ties, in fact, are so delicately and humorously satirized, that it is a truly 
‘International’ piece of fun. The good points, the true distinction of good 
breeding in manners and customs pertaining to each of the two peoples, and 
the thorough good understanding of the genuine people in the story, are the 
most satisfactory of its conclusions; but it is a sharp stylus that sets down the 
pretensions of the vulgar on either side. It looks as though Daisy Miller 
were avenged at last — and yet no offence either given or received." — Phila- 
delphia Ledger. 

“ In Miss Baylor’s work we have a novel entertaining from beginning to 
end, with brightness that never falls flat, that always suggests something be- 
yond the mere amusement, that will be most enjoyed by those of most cultiva- 
tion, that is clever, keen, and intellectual enough to be recognized as genuine 
wit, and yet good-natured and amiable enough to be accepted as the most de- 
lightful humor. It is not fun, but intelligent wit ; it is not mere comicality, 
but charming humor; it is not a collection of bright sayings of clever people, 
but a reproduction of ways of thought and types of manner infinitely enter- 
taining to the reader, while nc^t in the least funny to the actor, or intended by 
him to appear funny. It is inimitably good as a rendering of the peculiarities 
of British and of American nature and training, while it is so perfectly free 
from anything like ridicule, that the victims would be the first to smile." — ■ 
The Critic. 

For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, on 
receipt of the price by 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, Publishers, 

Nos. 715 AND 717 Market Street, Philadel •hia. 


PUBLICATIONS OF y. B. LTPPINCOTT COMPANY. 


AURORA. 

A KOVEI.. 

By Mary Agnes Tincker, author of “ The Jewel in the 

Lotus,” etc. 

Illustrated. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. 


" It is a story so delicately wrotight, so artistically perfect, that one reads it 
with a delight that deepens into fervor and enthusiasm. It is a story of Italian 
life, — of love, of intrigue, of despair, of aspiration It is full of dramatic 
situations, and of subtle, pervasive power.” — Boston Evening Traveller. 

” ' Aurora,’ by Mary Agnes Tincker, is a novel of extraordinary power and 
interest, in which the author of ‘ Signor Monaldini’s Niece’ has even surpassed 
the high mark made in that remarkable story. Its plot is original ; its varieties 
of character are portrayed with consummate skill; the different scenes — in 
Granada, in Sassoviso, at Ischia, and in Venice^are like pictures in vivid- 
ness; indeed, the entire presentation is that of imagination to imagination,” 
— Hartford Courant. 

“The whole book is very entertaining, and there are one or two English 
characters in whom the reader will be interested.” — London Academy. 

“ Miss Tincker’s stories of Italian life invariably possess points of high 
charm, are eloquent in description, and arc pervaded by a poetic ardor, which 
she puts into striking relief by offering in contrast vivid and realistic pictures 
of commonplace existence. In ‘Aurora’ there are scandals, falsehoods, in- 
trigues, all the machinations of powerful and unscrupulous workers in evil, 
which finally meet their punishment and their remedy in the catastrophe of 
the earthquake at Casamicciola. This culmination of the story is admirably 
given, and is full of powerful and artistic effects.” — Philadelphia American. 

“ Everything which Miss Tincker writes bears the stamp of a refined mind, 
a poetic temperament, and unmistakable genius. The story glows with 
Southern warmth and sparkles with good things, and is very complete in 
every way.” — London Whitehall Review. 

“ Possesses all the charms which characterized her excellent novel, ‘ The 
Jewel in the Lotus.’ In some respects it is a better written story than the 
work just named, and it falls below it in nothing. There is a genuine feeling 
for nature and poetry throughout the book, and its freshness and delicacy are 
very pleasant.” — New York Tribune. 


*#* For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, on 
receipt of the price by 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT OOMPABT, Publishers, 

Xoi, 715 and 717 Karket Street, FUladelphia. 


HALF-HOURS 


WITH THE 

BEST AMERICAN AUTHORS. 



4- 


SELECTED AND ARRANGED 

BY 

CHARLES MORRIS 

Complete in Four Crown 
Octavo Volumes of 
about 600 pages each. 

Cloth, Gilt Top . . . $6.00 
Half Morocco .... 10.00 
Three-Quarters Calf . 13.00 




“For a repertory of wise and judicious selections from the best writers 
which have sprung from American soil, we recall none that can equal the four 
volumes, by Mr. Morris, which he has issued under this well-chosen title. Not 
only does the author show that he possesses a wide range of our literature, but 
his selection has been guided by the most commendable judgment. Scarcely 
an author who has ever written anything worthy of presentation has been over- 
looked in the collection, the exhaustiveness of the work entitling it alone to take 
the first rank among works of its class. A work such as this is an invaluable 
cyclopaedia of American literature that cannot find too wide a circulation, or be 
given too prominent a place in the best-regulated library." — The Brooklyn 
Mag^azine . 

“ Every taste will find here something to suit it. As we turn the pages, we 
pass from gay to grave, from lively to severe, from prose to verse, from humor 
to pathos. Nor is any one age or any one school represented to the exclusion 
of others. The collection is truly catholic, in the proper sense of the word." 
— American Bookseller. 

“ Mr. Morris has made his selections with taste and discrimination, and the 
books have a substantial and intrinsic value." — Fhila. Bvening Telegraph. 

“ The reader will find instruction and entertainment in their pages, for every 
mood and condition of life, and for every day in the week. They are, in fine, 
a little library of themselves, — a kind of cyclopaedia of gems of literature." — 
Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

“For instruction or entertainment, continuous or occasional reading, they 
are equally available, very profitable ; but it is in their office of suggestiveness 
of the possibilities and pleasures of literary attainment that they are most 
valuable." — Boston Globe. 


*iI*For sale by all Booksellers, or ivill be sent by mail, postage prepaid, 
on receipt o/ the price, by 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, Publishers, 

715 and 717 Market St,, l*hiladeli)hia 


PRICE FIFTY CENTS. 


Mark hoGAN 

The Bohrseois. 


MRS. JOHN H. KINZIB, 

AUTHORESS OF “WAU-BUH,” “WALTER OGILBY,” ETC. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

J. R. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 


BEST STORIES BY POPULAR AUTHORS. 


LIPPINCOTT’S SERIES OF SELECT HOTELS. 

i6mo. Paper cover, 25 cts. Also bound in half cloth, 50 cts. 


A. Barbara Heathcotb’s Trial . 

2. June 

3. Faith and Unfaith 

4. Queenie’s Whim 

5. 1 Have Lived and Loved .... 

6. Nellie’s Memories 

7. Fob Lilias 

8. My Lord and My Lady 

9. Roy and Viola 

10. Dolores 

11. Doris 

12. Diana Carew 

13. Rossmoynb 

14. Not Like Other Girls 

18. Beauty’s Daughters 

17. Airy Fairy Lilian 

18. Portia 

19. Molly Bawn 

20. Viva 

21. Rhona 

22. Miqnon 

24. Loys, Lord Berresford 

28. Robert Ord’s Atonement .... 

29. Mrs. Geoffrey 

30. “O Tender Dolores” 

81. A Maiden All Forlorn .... 

32. Phyllis 

33. In Durance Vile 

36. Lady Branksmere 

87. A Mental Struggle 

39. Court Royal 

40. In a Grass Country 

46. A Fallen Idol 

M. Wooed and Married 

59. True Love 

60. Sunshine in the Shady Peace 

61. Lady Valworth’s Diamonds . . 

63. Once Again 

64. Vera Nevill 

65. Pure Gold 

66. Doctor Cupid 

67. That Other Person 

68. Geoffrey Stirling 

69. Uncle Max 

70. Moloch 

71. Worth Winning 

72. Wee Wifie 

73. Aunt Hepsy’s Foundling . . . 

74. One of the Duanes 

75. The Old Mam’sblle’s Secret . 


Rosa N. Carey. 

I^Ivs. Forrester. 

The “Duchess.” 

Rosa N. Carey. 

Mrs. Forrester. 

Rosa N. Carey. 

Rosa N. Carey. 

Mrs. Forrester. 

Mrs. Forrester. 

Mrs. P'orrester. 

The “ Duchess.” 

M r.s. Forrester. 

The “ Duchess.” 

Rosa JN. Carey. 

The “ Duchess.” 

The “ Duchess.” 

The “ Duchess.” 

The “ Duchess.” 

Mrs. Forrester. 

Mrs. Forrester. 

Mrs. Forrester. 

...... The “ Duchess.” 

Rosa N. Carey. 

The “ Duchess.” 

The “ Duchess.” 

The “ Duchess.” 

The “ Duchess.” 

The “ Duchess.” 

The “ Duchess.” 

The “ Duchess.” 

S. Baring-Gould. 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron. 

F. Anstey. 

Rosa N. Carey. 

. . . Lady Di Beauclerk. 

Edith Milner. 

The “ Duchess.” 

Mrs. Forrester. 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron. 
Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron. 
. . . . Rhoda Broughton. 
. . . . Mrs. Alfred Hunt. 
. . . . Mrs. Leith Adams. 

Rosa N. Carey. 

. . Mrs. Campbell Pracd. 
Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron. 
...... Rosa N. Carey. 

. . . . Mrs. Leith Adams. 
. , Alice King Hamiltoin 
. . . . Mrs. A. L. Wister. 


11^““ OUIDA’S” NOVELS. — See third page of this cover 


BEST STORIES BY POPULAR AUTHORS. 


UPPIXCOTT’S 


SERIES OF SELECT NOVELS 

AUTHORIZED EDITION OF 

"OUIDA’S” NOVELS. 


76mo. Paper cover, 40 cts. 

Bound in cloth extra, $1.00. 

15. Othmar. 

47. Tricotrin. 

23. Pascarel. 

48. Folle-Farine. 

25. Under Two Flags. 

49. In a Winter City. 

26. Granville de Vigne. 

50. Puck. 

27. Moths. 

1 51. Beatrice Boville. 

34. Signa. 

1 52. Idalia. 

i 

35. Wanda. 

1 

53. Princess Napraxine. 

38. Strathmore. 

55. Ariadne. 

41. Friendship. 

56. In Maremma. 

42. Randolph Gordon. 

1 57. A Village Commune. 

43. Cecil Castlemaine. 

58. Chandos. 

44. Bimbi. 

62. A House Party. 

45. Bebee. 



%* For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sect by mail, postage 
prepaid, ou receipt of the price by 

J. B. I^imNCO'r'r C0»II»AP«Y, Publisliers, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 


V/ORCEISTEIR'S 

Unabridged Q^^rto 

DICTIONARY 



With Denison's Reference Index for 7h cents additional. 

EIDITIOlsr 0:F 18S7 


ENLARGED BY THE ADDITION OF 

A New Pronouncing Biographical Dictionary 

of nearly 12,000 personages ; 

A New Pronouncing Gazetteer of the World, 

noting and locating over 20,000 places. 

Containing also 

Over 12,500 New Words, 

recently added, together with 

A Table of 5000 Words in General Use, with their Synonymes. 

ILLUSTRATED WITH WOOD-CUTS. AND FULL-PAGE PLATES. 

LIBRARY SHEEP, MARBLED EDGES, $10.00. 

The National Standard of Atnerican Tiiteratxtre, 

Every edition of Longfellow, Holmes, Bryant, Irving, Whittier, and other 
eminent American authors, is according to Worcester. Almost without exception 
the leading magazines and newspapers use Worcester as authority. 

From Oliver Wendell Holmes. — “ Worcester's Dictionary has constantly 
lain on my table for daily use, and Webster’s reposed on my shelves for occ^sioiml 
consultation.” 

FOR BALE BY ALL 

J. B. WPPINCOX'T COMPANY, Pumisliers, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 




LS^S. 


6 69 











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